


Bloodsoaked Lullabies

by Ficlet-Machine (Wordsmith)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate universe - Mafia, Awesome Phasma, BDSM practices, Badass Hux, Badass Kylo Ren, Blood, Blood Kink, Blood Play, Bottom Kylo Ren, Crimeboss!Hux, D/s relationship, Eventual Romance, Family Feuds, Fluff and Angst, Graphic descriptions of violence, Han Solo's A+ Parenting, Healthy Relationships, Hitman!Kylo, Hux is Not Nice, Hux will murder you if you touch his Ren, Irish Huxes, Italian Solos, Knife Play, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Leia Organa's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Partners to Lovers, Past Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Praise Kink, References to Drugs, Ren will murder you if you touch his Hux, Smut, Thoroughly negotiated kinks, Top Hux, Torture, Weapons, violence kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7176500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsmith/pseuds/Ficlet-Machine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A man who beats his dog should not be surprised if one day the dog bites back.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kylo Ren is fresh out of prison, with no family, no home, and no job - having been thrown to the side by his own blood family to protect their empire built on theft and smuggling. A violent force of nature, he knows he can never go straight. He needs someone to hold his leash, he needs a new master, and with a little help from his friends, he may have just found one.<br/>Ethan Hux rules the Irish families with an iron hand clad in silk gloves, as ruthless and efficient as an army officer. At thirty-five he's already built a solid reputation as a criminal mastermind, and with half of the NYPD on his payroll there's not much anyone can do to stop him.<br/>But the world they inhabit is never free of conflict, and everyone have histories they'd rather keep buried. So when a long brewing feud breaks out, it's time to for everyone to decide where their loyalties really lie. Will you bite the hand that feeds you, or will you bow?</p>
<p>---<br/><b>Note:</b> On temporary hiatus while I finish A Song of Crows. Fret not, this fic is not abandoned, and it will be finished. I've got it all planned out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Man

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm Swedish. This is set in New York. Any and all errors are mine, and I take full responsibility. Do feel free to point them out to me so I can go back and correct it. I won't be mad, I promise.
> 
> Any trigger warnings necessary will be found at the top of each chapter, and I strongly recommend you read them carefully as they pop up. I write dark stuff, and I don't want anyone to be triggered or squicked by something I wrote.
> 
> That said... Theriseofthefirstorder, this is for you. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?

Kylo let out the breath he hadn’t been aware of holding as the gates closed behind him. Fucking Attica. Three fucking years in that place. _Three fucking years_ on the inside for protecting a family that had thrown him out like last week’s garbage the second the cops put the cuffs around his wrists. They hadn’t even provided him with a lawyer. Their own fucking son. What a joke.  
Now he was on his own. No family, no job, no home. He didn’t even have his name anymore. Benedetto Cesare Solo would cease to exist the second Poe picked him up and handed him his new passport and ID’s. Kylo Ren was a better name, all things considered. Short, to the point, free from the weight of that cesspool that was the Solo family history. Kylo Ren was nobody, and right now, that was exactly who he wanted to be. 

A rusty old Toyota made its way into the parking lot, and Kylo smiled. He’d recognize that piece of junk anywhere. That the car was still running at all was nothing short of a miracle. After all, Kylo lost his virginity, to Poe, in that back seat over ten years ago. It should be rusting away at the dump by now, but Poe always hated getting rid of things that could still be the tiniest bit useful to him. It was as charming as it was annoying, and he was glad that Poe’s new lover – Finn was it? – seemed to share that sentiment.

“Well, well, well,” Poe grinned as he gave Kylo a once over that was downright filthy. “Kylo Ren. Damn, son, you could’ve warned a man you’d walk out of there a sex god! Feel like I’m cheatin’ just looking at you.”

He caught Kylo in a massive hug, and the latter blushed bright red at the compliments. He’d forgotten how… _honest_ , Poe could be – especially about people he found attractive.

“I don’t know about the whole ‘sex god’ thing, Poe,” he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly as the older man opened the door for him and allowed him to fold himself into the passenger seat. “But at least I got an excuse to get my daily work out in there. Not much else to do, to be honest.”

“I’m just glad they let you keep your hair,” Poe said as he got behind the wheel, rummaging through his pockets for his cigarettes. 

Kylo chuckled darkly, and accepted the offered white stick.

“Yeah, like they’d be able to do shit about it,” he said as he lit it, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly, savouring the feeling of being not inside those walls anymore. “There’s no rule against it, anyhow. It’s just risky for the smaller guys, you know. Someone might grab it in a fight or somethin’, and they’d be screwed.” He was silent for a moment, biting his lip. “Thanks, by the way. For, you know, helping me out. I know how much shit you could be in if they find out.”

Poe shrugged.

“I aint scared of them,” he said as they began exiting the parking lot. “What they did was fuckin’ inexcusable. I mean, come on. You should’ve been out of jail that same day. The least I could do to help you start over. Gotta warn you, though. The apartment aint much, but it’s clean, no Solos as far as the eye can see, and the landlady’s great. Rent’s cheap too. You got a month paid in advance. Don’t know if they froze your assets or not, so I figured I’d get that sorted at least.”

“They didn’t freeze ‘em,” Kylo sighed. “They terminated my accounts. Said I’d have to prove myself to ‘em before I could ‘re-join the family’.” 

“Fuckin’ shitheads.”

“Yeah. Imma need to find a job.”

“Yeah.”

“Only skill I got is hurting people.”

“So?”

“So a job aint gonna be all that easy. Guess I could always try workin’ as a bouncer or somethin’.”

“You could do that. Or you could join some other crew. You got a skill set any fucking big shot would kill to have in their ranks. Seller’s market, Kylo. Put yourself out there an’ watch ‘em fight over you.”

“You’ve got way too much faith in my abilities, Poe. Way too much.” 

“Nah, I aint got enough. Have you forgotten about LA?”

“I broke three ribs and dislocated my shoulder. Kinda hard to forget that. Your point is…?”

“I know a guy.”

“You ‘know a guy’? I’m not sure I wanna know. You sound like something from a shitty Hollywood movie.”

“It’s a cousin of mine, ok? Tank. He works for the Irish. The Hux family. They chew through enforcers like puppies through cardboard over there. Might be worth a shot.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yay!”

“That wasn’t a ‘yes’.”

“It wasn’t a ‘no’, either.”

“Ugh, shut up and drive, Dameron.”

~*~*~

Poe was right, the apartment was smaller than his old one, but still at least ten times bigger than that shoebox he’d called home for the past three years. It was a studio apartment, already furnished with a worn down grey couch, a TV, a small desk, and a bed. It wasn’t much, but Kylo didn’t really need much – never did. As long as he had somewhere to sleep, wash himself, and cook his food, he was alright. If he got a job with another organization he’d probably have to move anyway, so there was no point in owning too much stuff at the moment. Poe had introduced him to the landlady, a huge Irish woman named Hettie, with greying red hair, piercing blue eyes, and a foul-smelling cigar stuck in the corner of her mouth. She’d stared at him for a full minute, before nodding and explaining the rules of the house. Then she’d given him a hug and a pat on the shoulder that actually made him wince, and offered him a glass of whiskey. He had politely declined the offer – three years without a touch of alcohol had probably lessened his tolerance, and he didn’t want to make a fool out of himself the first day he was out.

Poe had even found some clothes for him. His own clothes. When Kylo had asked how the hell they’d managed to salvage them from his old apartment, Poe had grinned like the Cheshire cat and reminded him just who it was that had taught Kylo to pick locks back in the day. The locks on the storage room where all Kylo’s stuff had been brought never stood a chance against the expertise of Poe Dameron. 

It felt like heaven to take an actual warm shower without anyone else yelling at him to hurry up, no one trying to pick a fight, no curious newcomers asking about his tattoos or scars, no guards hanging around making crude jokes about the shape of the inmates’ junk… just him, alone and in peace. All of his favourite hair and skin care products had been waiting for him on the shelf, a little note attached, saying ‘welcome home’. Once he got out, he took his time shaving his face, applying the cooling crème and aftershave. His face had always looked too fucking young when he was clean shaven, but the ugly scar running from between his eyebrows and diagonally across his right cheek, ending at his jaw, had thankfully cured him of that. It was no advantage in this business to look like a fucking kid, and he’d always had to work hard to compensate for it. Now, at least, no one was gonna mistake him for a teenager any time soon. He was twenty-seven, and he finally fucking looked the part. 

If he was completely honest with himself, though, he knew that getting a hold of any other job than organized crime was gonna be pretty much impossible with that thing on his face. Not now that he had a fucking record to go with it. Sure, he could try to pull the “freak accident” card, but that wouldn’t work in the long run. Besides, he was far too violent to hold down an honest job, and he didn’t need some idiot employer calling the cops on him. As he put on a fresh pair of boxers and his favourite Henley – a worn out thing that might have been red at some point but was now a faded, dirty pink – he sighed to himself and admitted that Poe’s suggestion was the only real option. Some people could quit the life, turn it around, go straight, have a normal job and a normal life. Kylo wasn’t some people. You had to truly want out to get out, and he didn’t want to get out any more than he wanted to be back in Attica. He’d just have to play smarter this time around. Still, he was lucky to only land a three-year sentence for assault; if they’d found out what Kylo’s resume really looked like, he’d be in for life – or worse.

~*~*~

A week later, Kylo had sort of gotten the hang of the free life again. He’d found a gym near his apartment that wasn’t full of steroid-pumped dickheads, a coffee shop that actually made decent coffee, and a corner store where the cashier didn’t try to flirt with him or stare at his scar. Which was about as much acclimatization he’d hoped to achieve in seven days. He’d start expanding the territory next week, as per his former cell-mate’s instructions, and take it from there. Too much too soon would only send him right back inside, and nobody wanted that. The entirety of cellblock D had been relieved to see him go. The Solos had a reputation, and Kylo more than most others. 

Most people who looked at Kylo dismissed him as your average all brawn, no brain type of guy – the typical enforcer – violent, dangerous, but stupid. Most people would probably feel like they’d gotten confirmation of that fact if they knew where he was headed now. Yeah, most people really fucking underestimated him, and oh, so many of them had only realized their mistake when it was already far too late. Kylo was anything but stupid, and definitely smart enough to use people’s assumptions to his advantage. He also knew himself very well. He’d never been the leader type, never had that lust for power needed to stay on top. He was a follower, and he was comfortable with that. Following orders was something he was really fucking good at, and he took pride in knowing he had a near hundred per cent success rate. But he also knew he didn’t do so well without a leader to follow. There had to be someone holding his leash, keeping him focused, on target. Without a leader, Kylo was a bomb waiting to go off, and he didn’t want to go down that road again. He’d get all messy again, and eventually he’d self-destruct – taking anyone and everyone around him down with him. No, he needed someone to follow, and this might just be his best chance at finding that someone.

Tank was the single largest fucking man Kylo had ever seen. People called Kylo a walking wall of muscle, but holy fucking hell! Not only was he several inches taller, but this guy had biceps the size of Kylo’s bloody thighs! His head and face were clean shaven, and he wore a suit – tailored, high class – that would have made him look like a decent citizen had it not been for the tattoos showing at the neck and wrists. His eyes were kind, though, Kylo noticed. They held that same soft warmth as Poe’s always did, and the broad smile turned his otherwise menacing features completely on end. As Kylo approached him, where he was seated in a booth at the back of a small diner, he extended a giant paw of a hand, and the force of the handshake nearly made Kylo lift from the floor.

“So, Poe tells me you’re lookin’ for work,” he said, unceremoniously, as he waved the waitress over and ordered them both coffee. “Said there was some ‘start afresh’ type of situation, and that he’d vouch for you.” He peered curiously at the younger man. “I’d say that face of yours can vouch for you all on it’s own.”

Kylo gave a crooked smile. He liked this guy.

“Yeah, well, it’s like he said,” Kylo said, running a hand through his hair. “I gotta start over. My entire rap sheet’s got another name attached to it, so I’m kinda down to square one here.” Better be honest about that part. It would hopefully save him some trouble later. “Gotta start somewhere, and he told me you needed enforcers, so. Here I am.”

“Yeah, he told me.” Tank looked thoughtful for a moment. “He said you used to do work for the Solos, same as him.”

“I did.”

“We don’t really get along with the Solos. There gonna be any conflict of interest?”

“The Solos can all burn in hell as far as I’m concerned. So, no. No conflict.”

“If boss asked you to shoot one…?”

“I’d aim for the head. And I wouldn’t miss.”

Tank let out a thunderous laughter, scaring half the diner – Kylo included – shitless at the sheer volume of it.

“Damn, son!” he exclaimed, giving Kylo a pat on the shoulder that nearly fucking dislocated it. “You are one cold motherfucker.”

“It’s what I do,” Kylo shrugged.

“You were one of their fixers, then?”

“Yup.”

“Anything else? Boss wants us to be versatile.”

“Interrogation’s one of my specialties. Security, enforcing, some negotiations – but I’m not that great at that last one. Good at reading people, making them talk. Not all that good at the whole diplomacy and fancy word bit. I’m a good driver, though. Can drive pretty much anything with wheels on it.”

Tank looked fairly impressed as he studied Kylo for a while. The latter knew this was a test, to see if he was the nervous type. But Kylo had plenty of patience when he needed to. Like that time he’d spent forty-eight bloody hours on a roof top, next to a nest full of wasps, just to get a clean shot at a target. He’d been in fucking Attica. A few minutes of being stared at wasn’t enough to phase him. He calmly looked right back at the older man as he sipped his coffee. Eventually, Tank gave a nod.

“Can you take orders?”

“I can.”

“Got any weaknesses?”

Kylo looked him right in the eyes, and said:

“I’m violent as all hell, I’ve got a vile temper, I don’t take any fucking orders from anyone who aint my boss. Also, I fucking gayer than a fanny-pack. But call me a faggot and I’ll gut you right where you stand.”

Tank stared at him for a moment, in complete shock at his honesty, and then another round of that impossibly loud laughter erupted from him, nearly causing him to roll down on the floor.

“Oh, boss is gonna love you!” he managed to croak out between laughs. “Dear God in Heaven. I think you’re just what we need.”

“Yeah?” Kylo tipped his head to the side, biting his lip. “My sexuality aint gonna be a problem?”

“Why should it?” Tank seemed genuinely perplexed. “Who you shag aint got nothing to do with your job.”

“It was a problem for the Solos.”

“Yeah, well,” Tank scratched his chin. “The Solos always were too fixed on the ‘Adam and Eve’ part, and not enough on the whole ‘love thy neighbour as thyself’ bit.”

“Amen to that.”

“You a believer?”

“Only on paper.”

“Good.” Tank got up, and pulled Kylo out of his seat as well. “Let’s go meet the boss.”

~*~*~

Tank had sure made him prove his worth when he’d shoved the keys to the black SUV into Kylo’s hands, told him the address, followed by a simple order to “drive”. Kylo drove, not stupid enough to argue with someone who could probably snap his neck between thumb and forefinger. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t driven in three years, he knew that – all that mattered was his ability to follow orders and get the job done. The traffic was a nightmare, but Kylo managed to keep his road-rage in check and focus on the task at hand, and eventually they found themselves parked in a driveway in front of a house that looked more like the home of a Hollywood celebrity than a crime boss. It was all glass and concrete and sharp angles, contrasted with lush greenery and clever lightning – making it look less like a bunker and more like a piece of modern art. This was unexpected.  
Normally, the new grunts didn’t get to know where the boss lived. Normally, they’d be introduced in a neutral environment; a club, a café, or the office. Normally, they didn’t get to meet the boss on the very first fucking day, either. Kylo had been the one to introduce enough new blood to know that fact, so this whole situation was just becoming more confusing by the minute, but he played it cool. If this was how they wanted to play the game, then Kylo would do his best to follow.  
There were a lot of people in the house, guards, staff of various kinds, and apparently they’d never seen anyone like Kylo before – if the way they all stopped in their tracks to stare at him while Tank led him further into the house was anything to go by. He was silently glad he’d opted for the black slacks, dark grey shirt, and black vest instead of his usual attire. Judging by the level of style of everyone in this house, jeans and a t-shirt probably wouldn’t go over all that well. Besides, his grandmother would turn in her grave if he’d showed up in front of his new boss looking like some hoodlum. 

Eventually they arrived at their destination, a nondescript door somewhere on the second – or was it the third? – floor of the house. Kylo was unsure whether or not he’d be able to find his way out again if Tank was to leave him here. The man knocked three times in rapid succession, waited, and at the sound of a curt “enter!”, he opened the door to reveal a large office. Sitting in the chair behind the beautifully crafted antique desk, a cigar propped casually between two fingers, was the head of the Hux family. Kylo already knew who he was – hard not to when he’d grown up a Solo, taught from an early age that anyone with the name Hux was an enemy of theirs.  
Ethan Hux was an intimidating figure, with a demanding, regal, aura that could put most actual royalty to shame, and a piercing green gaze that saw right through you. The eye patch covering his right eye only added to his menacing presence. His ginger hair was brushed back from his face, a short beard – impeccably groomed – covered his chin, and he wore an elegant but simple grey suit. 

“This him?” he asked Tank with a nod in Kylo’s direction, a hint of an Irish accent to his speech. Tank nodded.

“This is him,” he said. “Kylo Ren, former fixer and interrogator for the Solos.”

Hux got up from his chair, walked right up into Kylo’s personal space, and gave him a thorough inspection.

“You’re built like a bloody brick wall, lad,” he said, looking slightly impressed despite obviously trying to appear causal and distant. “What happened to your face?”

“Got cut with a broken bottle, sir,” Kylo said. No point in lying. 

Hux gave a curious smile at the honorific. He turned to Tank, a crooked grin on his face.

“Seems the Solos at least taught their younglings some manners,” he said, before turning back to Kylo, who was fighting back a blush at that. “No need for all that. ‘Hux’ will do fine. I’m only thirty-five. ‘Sir’ makes me feel old. Speaking of which, how old are you? I honestly can’t tell, and I’d rather not employ a bloody teenager.”

“Twenty-seven, s- Hux.”

“Twenty-seven, but already a fixer?”

“I’m good at it.”

“Is that so? How good?”

“The best.”

Hux stared at him in surprise for a second, then threw his head back and laughed. He had a very pleasant laugh, Kylo noticed. A real nice smile, too. The green eye not covered by a patch glittered in amusement as he looked the brunette over again.

“You don’t seem all that nervous, so I’m going to go ahead and guess you’ve been in this situation before,” he said. “That means you already know I’ve had Tank check your background and credentials before this meeting.”

“Yeah. Standard procedure, aint it?”

“It is.” Hux sat back down, flipping through some papers. “I’m not stupid, Mr Ren. I know that’s not your real name, and I know that men like you only change their names for very serious and potentially messy reasons, but I’m willing to give you a chance anyway. I’m not looking for any more enforcers. I’ve hired five new guys in the past few days.” Kylo felt his heart sink a bit. “I do however need a fixer. Preferably someone who is not afraid of getting his hands bloody – and I do mean that literally. We both know enforcers are canon fodder. Loud, stupid, aggressive; part of the show. I need someone who can do the real work. Someone who can go where I tell him, do what I tell him, when I tell him, without questioning or talking back. Someone who can actually take care of business, get people to talk when needed, and get others to permanently shut up when needed. Can you do that?”

“I can.”

“And if I send you after a Solo?”

“Like I told Tank already; I’d aim for the head, and I don’t miss.”

“Even if it was someone you knew?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Answer’s still the same.”

Hux regarded him in silence for a good minute, Kylo meeting his gaze head on – making damn sure the other man knew he wasn’t some jittery fucking rookie. Hux would have to earn his respect as much as Kylo would have to Hux’. Eventually, the ginger nodded, and next to him Tank let out a relieved breath.

“You’ll be working with Tank for the next month,” he said. “He’ll teach you the ropes. You start right now. I’ll have Phasma arrange a proper living accommodation for you as soon as possible, and Tank will make sure you’re covered for weapons and equipment. If you do well, you’ll be working directly under me. Consider this a probation period. I expect you to impress me, Mr Ren. I want perfection, no more, no less. You understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now get to work.”


	2. The Attack Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for: mentions of sex trafficking, xenophobia

Kylo’s probationary period passed by rather quickly. The Hux family were all about routines and structure, and Kylo thrived in it. Every morning, Tank picked him up at 8:30 sharp, armed with a large thermos of coffee, and sandwiches made by his wife. The two shared their breakfast in the car, while going over the to do-list for the day. Before lunch, the time was spent mainly in meetings, at the gun range, or at the gym. Lunch – always twelve-thirty to one-thirty – came with a strict prohibition of any work related topics, and they usually ate together with the enforcers, or on their own. Twice, though, they’d been invited to share lunch with Hux himself and his personal assistant Phasma – and given Tank’s puppy-dog expression, Kylo guessed it was a rare treat, even for high ranking members like Tank. Kylo was a little overwhelmed, too, if he was completely honest with himself. 

The Solo’s barely even acknowledged their fixers unless their skills were needed for something, but Hux not only remembered his name, he seemed to enjoy asking his new employee for his opinions on everything from music to preferred method of corpse disposal. Despite spending a lot of time feeling like an uncultured idiot, Kylo’s conversation skills seemed to please his boss greatly, and they had slipped into an easy, witty banter relatively quickly – Hux obviously not happy to be informed that lunch was over and they had paperwork to get done. Both times, Kylo had walked out of there feeling completely mindfucked. It didn’t help that Tank looked at him like he was the fucking chosen one or something. He got along with his boss, and that was all he could dare to ask for right now. 

Afternoons and nights were their busiest time, and Tank made him work for every bit of praise he would get, but they both know Kylo could deliver. This whole thing was all about getting stuff on record, show that he’d earned his rank the same way they all did. It wasn’t like anyone else in the family had come in with his level of skill from the get go, and everyone were aware of that – but that didn’t mean they could allow any special treatment without some shit hitting the fan. They needed to keep the room for complaints as small as possible, and so Kylo donned his figurative newbie-patch and went to work. In the third week, his first interrogation came up.

It had been an altogether rather quiet night, which was always a bad sign. If they weren’t busy, that meant that somewhere, someone was planning something shitty. They had still appreciated the break, though, and took the opportunity to do some maintenance on their guns and other equipment. Ren had finished cleaning his gun, a .45 Desert Eagle that Tank had bought him – saying it suited him better than other, smaller models – and was about half way through polishing and sorting what was colloquially referred to as his ‘toolbox’; a collection of various instruments, drugs, and other unpleasant things, that he used as part of his interrogation techniques. Tank had paled a bit when the young man handed him the requested list of tools he needed, but had acquired everything and delivered it back to Kylo in a very practical case with proper slots and pockets for each item. The call from Hux came in just as Kylo had put a set of scalpels down on the table to inspect the state of the blades. Their boss’ message was short and to the point as usual: get to the location, the newbie will be leading the interrogation, you have one hour.

The subject was a man in his early forties, a middle-ranking member of one of the Japanese families, and despite his cocksure statements regarding his own resilience and Ren’s ability to make him crack, Ren had him picked apart and crying like a baby within an hour. He was still rambling on when Hux nodded to Tank to put a bullet in his head. As Kylo was cleaning up his equipment and putting everything back in its case, Hux had approached him and watched curiously as he closed the case up. 

“Your probation is over,” he’d said. “I recognize brilliance when I see it, and that, lad, was it. Good job.”

“Thank you, sir- I mean, _Hux_. Thank you, Hux.” Ren blushed furiously at the fuck up. 

Hux gave an amused chuckle. 

“Now, now,” he smiled. “Calm down, Ren – I won’t be mad at you if you slip up with that. But first thing tomorrow, I expect you and your belongings to be delivered to my doorstep at eight a.m. sharp. From now on, you’ll take your orders directly from me.”

“Understood. Will I be allowed to keep my apartment?”

“If you want to,” Hux shrugged. “Just hand the details over to Phasma, and she’ll make sure your rent and other expenses get paid. May I ask why, though? Just out of curiosity.”

Ren bit his lip, trying to find a way to explain that didn’t make him sound like a wacko.

“Look, Hux,” he said. “I’m a violent guy, okay? I get moody and down sometimes, and when I do, it’s better if I’m not around people. Think of it as a safety precaution from my part. If I start feeling shitty, I’ll just go lock myself up for a while until it goes away.”

“And that works?”

“Most of the time.” _No, never at all_. “I would just feel better, you know, if I knew I had the option.”

“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” With that, he had walked away, leaving a dumbfounded Ren shifting awkwardly from one foot to another until Tank came and got him.

~*~*~

It was now 7:59, and Kylo was knocking on the door to the strange concrete-and-glass house – though, mansion would probably be a better decription. His clothes and few belongings were crammed into a few suitcases and an army issued equipment bag Tank had given him to bring his weapons in. The driveway was empty, and the house was silent, making Kylo nervous. Every time he and his mentor had been by in the past three weeks, there’d always been cars and people around. Hoping that they weren’t fucking with him, he waited, picking at the skin around his thumbnails – a stupid, anxious tick he’d had for years. Then steps were heard, and Hux himself opened the door. He was as impeccably styled as always, in pinstriped slacks and a vest, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a tie the same green as his eyes.

“You’re right on time,” he said in greeting, before picking up two of the suitcases and brining them inside. Kylo hurried to follow. “Good. I value punctuality, as you may have noticed already. Your room is this way.” He walked further into the maze-like house, past the giant kitchen, and up a flight of stairs to a secluded corridor with three doors on one side and giant windows overlooking a beautifully styled atrium on the other. Stopping by the middle door, Hux grinned at the younger man’s awestruck expression.

“You like gardens too, I take it?” he said. Kylo tore his eyes away, and nodded, a bit embarrassed. He seemed to be embarrassed a lot these days. “This is your room. Closest to the stairs is the bathroom, and the other one here is Phasma’s. I’m one floor up, third door.”

“Got it,” Kylo said, memorizing the information. 

His room was larger than his entire apartment. The walls were a calming beige colour, contrasted with a wonderful, deep purple back-wall behind his bed. It was a king-size, gigantic in comparison to Kylo’s previous one, standing with its headboard against the wall at the far back of the room, the simple but elegant mahogany-coloured frame matched by the two bedside tables. The wardrobes took up an entire wall, but the majority of the space in the room was taken up by a couch and comfy-looking armchair, a low table, and a massive flat-screen TV. He also had several bookshelves and a desk. A closer look informed him that he even had a miniature fridge. All in all, it was the perfect room for a man in Kylo’s profession – if he needed to lay low, or if he’d been put on bed-rest due to injury, all he needed was right here. It felt very homely, safe, and calming. From the window, he could look out over the main garden area and the driveway. Good, he hated not being able to keep tabs on things.

Hux had watched him as inspected the new space, green eye glittering, and a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Once Kylo turned his attention back to his employer and thanked him profusely for this upgrade in living standard, Hux just nodded – as if this was nothing. To him, it probably was.

“I take care of my subordinates,” he said. “It stands to reason that people who are well cared for by their superiors will perform better in the line of duty. Now for a more important question: have you had breakfast yet?” Kylo shook his head, having completely forgotten about that. “Then I suggest we discuss the details of your new position over coffee and something to eat, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.”

After Hux had made breakfast for them both, absolutely forbidding Kylo from helping – much to the younger man’s dismay – they sat down by the massive table in the dining room adjacent to the kitchen. The redhead already had a stack of files waiting, along with two packages – a cell phone and a tablet, from the looks of it. This made Kylo all kinds of confused, because things were starting to smell a bit too good to be true. Was this what other families did, then? They actually gave their employees expensive shit like this? Because the Solos sure as fuck didn’t! Deciding against asking about them, not wanting to come off as greedy or stupid, Kylo focused on not simply inhaling his omelette, because Holy Mother of God that thing was the tastiest breakfast he’d had in years! No offense to Tank’s wife, naturally, but Kylo and bread had never really been buddies.   
Hux’ walking meatball of a cat, Millicent, kept the boss busy trying to protect his food from her searching little paws and incessant, nagging _mrrrrrow_ ’s, and the fixer found himself smiling at the sight. This was apparently a thing, if Hux’ exasperated chiding was anything to go by. He made a mental note never to take his eyes off his food until he was finished, just in case Millie decided to try shit with him. Still, the relaxed atmosphere unnerved him some. Hux wasn’t just Kylo’s boss; he was _the_ boss – why the hell did he care about anything that Kylo did? Wasn’t the whole point of having a fixer to keep them out of the way, in some safe house or whatever, so plausible deniability could still be claimed in case someone fucked up? He didn’t believe for one fucking second that Hux casually had breakfast with his employees on a regular basis. Or, well, with the exception of Phasma, of course. But they were cousins, Tank had told him, which automatically put her on a whole other level than everyone else.

Hux seemed to pick up on his conflicted feelings, and after having shooed Millicent away, he pushed his plate to the side and fixed his eye on Kylo. For a guy with only one eye, he sure had a very powerful gaze.

“You seem nervous, Kylo,” he said. “Which is the exact opposite of what I had intended. Tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours.”

Kylo nearly choked on his last sip of orange juice.

“Uhm, sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, it’s just… Fuck, I don’t know. Do you always act this casual with your fixers? Like, is this breakfast bit something you do? ‘Cause, and I don’t mean any disrespect or anything, you don’t really strike me as the type.”

Hux’ eyebrows had risen slightly, but once the brunette had shut his mouth, he nodded and leaned back in the chair.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m not.” He took a sip of his coffee, looking thoughtful for a moment. “But I meant what I said about you yesterday. You are sheer brilliance, Kylo. At first glance you don’t look like much more than your average enforcer. But there is something about you, something I have yet to put my finger on, that intrigues me.” He picked up the folders and handed them over to Kylo. “Not to mention that your competence and skill outshines almost every single man I have in my service. I prefer to have those skills as close to me as I can. Therefore on paper you will henceforth be my bodyguard and lead interrogator. In reality, you will go where I tell you, hurt whom I tell you, kill when I tell you, and do whatever else I need you to do when I need it done. You will, along with Phasma, be my personal sounding board. I need someone who has experience with field-work, and who knows how the other families operate. Do you understand?”

“You need an attack-dog,” Kylo nodded. Hux looked positively horrified at the word.

“I need a right-hand man,” he corrected. “Someone I can trust to get the job done without the hindrance of the internal structure of the family. Your loyalty will be with me and only me. If I told you to kill Tank, I expect you to do it. Do you understand?” Kylo nodded, but Hux still looked disgruntled. “But please don’t call yourself an attack-dog, Kylo. Why the hell would you degrade yourself like that?”

Kylo scratched his shoulder awkwardly. 

“I don’t think it’s that degrading,” he said with a shrug. “It’s what I’m good at. You need someone who can scare people into falling in line, both within the family and outside it, yeah?” Hux nodded. “Then that’s what I am. I’ve been called that for most of my life, anyway. To me it’s just a label.”

“I forbid you from using it about yourself in my presence. I don’t know what bullshit the Solos fed you, but here we respect each other. Clear?”

Kylo looked surprised, but nodded.

“Clear.”

“Good.” He tapped his finger on the folders. “In here,” he said. “You will find the necessary information regarding your new duties. You will have them memorized by tomorrow. Hand me your cell phone.”

Kylo fished the worn and out fashioned device out from his pocket, only to have it snatched from his hand by Hux, who the proceeded to pick it completely apart. Then the redhead handed both the packages over to him instead.

“Here is your new phone,” he said. “The list of numbers you’ll need are in the bottom folder. The tablet will be an important tool for you in your work. Keep it with you, always. Should it break or need replacement, just inform me, and I’ll have a new one ordered. Do you know how to use it?”

“No,” Kylo admitted with a crooked smile. “I’ve been in prison for three years. I never touched a tablet before that either, and to me this phone looks like some sort of Star Trek props, so you might wanna consider me technologically inept for the time being.”

Hux actually chuckled at that.

“I will teach you as we go along, then,” he said. “Now. While we do have a dresscode in this organization, I don’t really care that much what you wear. As long as you wear a proper suit to meetings, and when you are in public with me, I don’t care about your everyday clothing. It has been pointed out to me that a suit can actually be quite a hindrance to people like you on the field, and I think that you probably stand out enough in a crowd already, so I’ll be lenient. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

They continued going over the vast amount of information and rules for a few hours, and Hux was most impressed by Kylo’s sharp memory and apparent dedication to learning everything he needed to know. The young fixer was an intriguing mix of cheeky boyishness, utter professionalism, and something hidden, dark, - all of which topped off with an intellect that obviously hadn’t been given enough friggin’ credit before. As long as they discussed violence, surveillance, interrogation, or any other such topic, Kylo could have a situation analysed and planned out in minutes – and Hux really appreciated that trait. Quick thinking had gotten him out of plenty of scrapes before, and it felt reassuring to know he had someone by his side who also had the same ability. It saved a hell of a lot of time, if nothing else. It was only regarding other, more… civilian, topics that the brunette closed on himself somewhat. Obviously, it had something to do with his past. Apparently those idiots hadn’t handled Kylo correctly, and instead managed to saddle the poor guy with a metric fuckton of issues. Well, at least it seemed like Kylo was incredibly aware of the state of his own head, and Hux was content to leave it be for now. Eventually they’d have to talk about it, but doing so too soon would probably do more damage than good.

As Hux showed him around the house, explained the daily schedule, and the few rules that every inhabitant of the house – Hux included – had to abide by, the ginger took the opportunity to appreciate Kylo’s impressive figure. He was very attractive, the large scar on his face actually enhancing rather than tarnishing his good looks, and the way he moved was absolutely entrancing. Graceful, despite his bulky build, and with a predator-like quality that no doubt did things to anyone with an attraction towards masculine people – but still so clearly possessing that boyishness and youthful awkwardness that contradicted everything about him. It certainly helped that the dark navy slacks and vest he wore, along with a striped grey shirt, were fairly tight around his frame – the sleeves of his shirt straining to hold together around his biceps as he moved his arms.  
He seemed also to take to obedience with a natural ease that both appealed to Hux’ darker sides and made him worry about Kylo’s reactions to those very same sides. Knowing himself and his tendencies to take over, to bend other to his will, at an almost instinctual level, Hux worried that Kylo would just as instinctually obey even if it hurt him. Obedience of this pure, natural, kind was a gift to be given only where there was proper and mutual trust – a mutual agreement, a promise on Hux’ part to never, ever, take advantage of it. This was definitely something he had to keep in check if he didn’t want to end up scaring away the perhaps most skilled fixer he’d ever met just because he was a dominant twat. And Hux was no fool; Kylo may seem submissive now, but he had a distinct feeling that if the younger man ever felt cornered, the aftermath would include a lot of blood, a lot of corpses, and a lot of paperwork. Hux did not want to be one of the idiots standing in his way if that ever happened, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be the one who caused it.

~*~*~

The car pulled up in front of a nondescript old factory building in an abandoned old industrial area, and Hux’ mouth curled in disgust as Kylo opened the door for him and he stepped out into the brisk morning air. _Bloody Americans_ , he thought to himself. Had no one ever informed them of the usefulness of offices? Cafes? Places that did not reek of muck, rust, and death? Apparently not. He blamed Hollywood and its continuous delusions about what this life actually entailed. Kylo didn’t look impressed either, as he scanned the area around them for signs of trouble, before motioning for Tank and the small group they’d brought with them to spread out and keep watch.

“This is a fucking rat’s nest,” he grumbled as he followed Hux towards the entrance. “If they start shit here, we’re gonna have a fucking problem.”

“How much of a problem?” the ginger asked as he casually lit a cigar.

“I mean, we’ll kill ‘em, alright,” Kylo said. “But we aint gonna make it outta here without injuries to our own. And that’s a problem. I prefer not to leave tracks behind.”

“I doubt they’ll dare to try,” Hux grunted. “The Americans are all bark, no bite.”

“Some of them bite.”

“But you bite harder, I’m sure.”

Kylo’s smile was positively wicked, and all the answer Hux needed.

In the old production hall, a conference table of sorts had been put together, with rickety chairs on both sides, and even a pitcher of water and some plastic mugs had been placed in the middle of it. Hux would have rolled his eyes at the pathetic sight if it wasn’t for the fact that their… _associates_ , were already seated by the table. Hux relished the anxious, flickering, stares directed at him, Kylo, and Tank from several of the other men. They should be anxious, the sorry lot of young lads that they were. Most of them hardly looked past twenty, stupid young pups trying to be big bad wolfs without having a fucking clue where their own bloody teeth were.

“Hux!” the obvious leader of the gang – a middle aged, porky man with silver streaks in his thinning brown hair – called from where he was sitting at the end of the table. “It’s been ages. Good to see you! Come sit down!”

God, Hux hated this guy so much.

“Mr Morgan,” he greeted as politely as he could, not really bothering to try and keep the chill out of his voice. “Pardon our late arrival, traffic was absolutely appalling.”

“No problems, old friend!” Morgan laughed. He peered at Kylo, who remained standing just behind Hux’ left shoulder. “That’s an impressive young man you’ve found yourself there,” he said. “Didn’t know you Irish folk came in darker colours than ginger, no offense.”

“Careful now,” Hux said with an icy smile, green eye flashing dangerously. “Your prejudice is showing.” But he couldn’t resist bragging, not when faced with all of those sniffling brats. “Mr Ren has been cutting people into little pieces since before most of your… _men_ , for lack of better word, were born. I don’t care much for heritage, but competence is key. And Mr Ren is _very_ competent.” He hid his glee at the sight of the young idiots taking a nervous step back. “Now, should we get to it? I don’t have all day, and I do believe you called us, not the other way around.”

“Uhm, yes,” Morgan nodded, fumbling around in his briefcase until he found what he was looking for. Hux took a drag from his cigar and counted to ten. Morgan was infuriating. “I have a proposal, a lucrative one. You see, I’ve recently managed to get a foot in on the trafficking market. Sweet, young girls – and boys, too – the highest quality, but it’s difficult to get them into the country. I thought to myself, how do I do this? How can I get all of these sweet little things across the border so I can start making the real money? Then it struck me – the Huxes can help me! You and your planes and boats! There’s gotta be room for more than guns in ‘em, right? And you do business with the Russians and all of those guys, so you’re already known in the area, right.” He looked so proud of himself for having come up with that, chubby face beaming. “And sure, pussy’s a risky trade, I get that, but if anyone can do it, it’s you. So I figured I’d ask you to join in on the action, for a generous share of the profit, of course. Fifteen per cent of all earnings. How’s that sound?”

“That,” Hux said, all pretence at politeness gone from his voice. “Sounds like a bloody insult.” Morgan’s eyes went wide, and he paled, beginning to sputter. Hux cut him off. “You make me take time out of my busy schedule to meet you, then force me to drive half-way out of the feckin’ state, only to try and get me involved in the bloody pussy trade – and to top it off, all you’re offering me is fifteen per cent.” He stood up, leaning over the table, and fixed Morgan with a glare. “The only reason your family is still in business – and I do mean the only – is that you and your little gang of lost boys are too fucking inconsequential to be worth the hassle of eradicating. You strut about your little night clubs, and you deal your diluted bordering on useless coke, while your little pack gets themselves arrested for misdemeanours a couple of times a week, and think you’re some real fuckin’ kingpin. You haven’t a fucking clue.” Hux stood back up. “Mr Ren,” he said. “Tell Mr Morgan who runs the pussy trade around here.”

“The Russians have the north east, and the Koreans the south west, Mr Hux,” Kylo said, deliberately keeping his voice as void of emotions as he could. “And the Lithuanians are trying to gain footing as well.”

Hux nodded.

“It took me two years to form a stable and peaceful relationship with the Russians,” he said to Morgan. “We’ve never had any issues with the Koreans or the Lithuanians. If we were to do this, however, we would have more fuckin’ issues than me mother had freckles. The market’s full.” He took a final drag of the cigar, before putting it out against the stained surface of the table. “The Hux family have never been a part of that trade, and we don’t plan to start now. If you had any actual knowledge of the business, you’d know all of this. But all you care about is the size of your wallet and the number of underage girls you can stick your dick in in one night. If you understood shite about this business, you’d also know that if you were to try and persuade my family to get involved in something that would start a fuckin’ war, you wouldn’t start by insulting me with your fifteen fuckin’ per cent. The answer is no.”

Morgan swallowed nervously, sweat prickling his forehead.

“O-okay,” he said. “Okay. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot here, Hux. I just thought, you know, that it’d be easier for you guys to establish, since, you know, you kinda have a reputation already. With the guns and all. So I figured it be better if you guys took the lead he-”

“Shut your mouth,” Hux snarled. “You arrogant, self-centred, dim-witted, bloody American pig!” Morgan looked like he was about to pass out. “Apparently no one told you this, but there are rules to follow in this business, and one of the most important ones is this; do _not_ insult your superiors. You and your little pack of strays are ants, Morgan. Me and my family, are not. I strongly advise you to stay in the gutters you love so much, and refrain from any attempts to rise above your station.” He gave a smile that would probably have the Devil himself huddling in a corner. “You see, Mr Morgan, you think it’s all like Hollywood told you. The fancy parties, the tailored suits, the fast cars. Planned and controlled shootings, and no one really gets hurt. But this is the real world, and here you would be dead within a week. Here, if I gave the order right now, Mr Ren would blow your brains out – all over the faces of your little mutts over there. Understood?” Morgan nodded frenetically. “Good. Don’t ever call us again.”

With that, he headed for the exit, Kylo and Tank watching his back, and the rest of the crew following behind after making sure that Morgan and his crew wouldn’t get any funny ideas. After sending the group off to do whatever they were supposed to be doing when Hux had called them in, he and Kylo got in the car to head straight for the mansion. The ginger had other, more important things to do, and Kylo looked like he could use some time alone with the sandbag in the downstairs gym.

“That one’s gonna come back and bite you, you know,” Kylo said after a while. 

Hux looked up from his tablet, and met the younger man’s eyes through the rear view mirror.

“Possibly, yes,” he said. “What gives you that feeling?”

Kylo shrugged, and gently steered the car back onto the highway. An excellent driver, this one, Hux noted.

“He was trying to provoke you. That xenophobic shit, he did that on purpose.”

“I know. He’s not the first.”

“He was testing you. I can’t tell you how I know, but there was something fishy about the whole thing. I don’t like it. Makes me think he’s connected to someone.”

“You think he’s a decoy?”

“Yeah. Or a trap.”

“Have Tank and the lads look into it. Start tomorrow, we don’t want to appear too paranoid.”

“Yessir.” Kylo sighed and rolled his eyes at himself. “Sorry. Hux.”

“If it makes you happy, you can call me ‘sir’,” Hux chuckled. “You’ve been working for me five weeks and you’ve apologized at least a hundred times now for calling me ‘sir’.”

“It just… I dunno, it just comes more naturally to me.”

“Then who am I to make you go against your nature? ‘Sir’ will do fine.”

“Thank you. Sir.” 

Hux saw the broad, toothy grin spread across his face, and chuckled again as he returned his attention to the document he was reading.

~*~*~

Dinner that night was a quiet affair; it was just Hux, Phasma, and Kylo – and Millicent, of course, gathering in the kitchen after a marathon session of book keeping and business planning. Eventually, the numbers had begun crawling around the pages, and their collective headaches made them grumpy, and so Hux took pity on Phasma and Kylo, and decided it was time for dinner. Phasma suggested pasta, but found herself promptly barred from the kitchen by Kylo. Next moment both she and Hux found themselves sitting on the bar stools running along the side of the kitchen island where Kylo had set about making dinner – muttering about something in Italian. It had surprised Hux the first day he heard Kylo speak it, but then again, his entire family were Italian – most of them first generation immigrants. Of course, Kylo spoke Italian!  
As the brunette made dinner, Hux and Phasma engaged in relaxed small talk; enjoying the peace and quiet. The last few weeks had been very busy, which meant the mansion had been full of people at all hours, and neither one of the cousins were much of a people person, so to be constantly surrounded by their loud and occasionally rowdy family had annoyed them both. Luckily, the newest member of the permanent residents also hated to be around people, and he seemed to prefer more peaceful activities in his free time; when Phasma and him weren’t fighting each other in some video game or other, Kylo would spend his time either reading, watching films, or strolling about the garden with Millicent draped over his shoulders like a furry collar. Perhaps it had something to do with his violent nature – a need to balance those tendencies with something non-destructive. Hux willingly admitted to himself that his new employee fascinated him in a way no one had done in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all! I'm alternating the updates for this fic and _A Song of Crows_ in order to maintain some semblance of sanity. So don't worry if the updates take a while - it's because I'm working on the other fic.
> 
> Hux Irish accent gets more prominent the more irritated he gets. I pretty shite at writing dialects, but I hope I can get it across better in upcoming chapters.  
> But he seems to like Kylo, though. Millicent definitely likes Kylo, which is good. 
> 
> Starting next chapter things will start moving along a bit more, promise :)
> 
> If you have any questions, or just feel like being nerdy with me, I'm on Tumblr --> **ficlet-machine.tumblr.com**


	3. Detonation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: blood, mentions of drug abuse, mild gore.

The first time the Hux family got a taste of Kylo’s destructive powers was two months into his employment. The fixer had warned Hux that morning that he was feeling kinda off, and the ginger didn’t doubt his words. There was something about the way he carried himself – something in his eyes – that just screamed ‘danger’, and when he’d asked permission to opt out from carrying any hardware, Hux had let him. It was hardly as if Kylo wasn’t dangerous enough with his bare hands anyway, but if it eased his mind, then sure. Of course, everyone were aware of the seven or so knives and sneaky little blades he usually carried about his person in case he needed them, but no one was stupid enough to try and take them away from him – not even with the potential of shit hitting the fan.

Said shit hit said fan inside an Irish pub, where Hux, Phasma, and Kylo had joined Tank and some other, inner circle members of the family to celebrate the birthday of one of their senior enforcers. It was just after midnight, and some complete fucking idiot and his shit-face tagalongs decided now was the time to start shit with the Hux family. Fucking Russians. Even the experienced guys in the crew really followed exactly what happened, because Holy Mother of God, Kylo Ren could move faster than hell when he needed to. A gun was pointed at Hux, Kylo – who was the closest – moved to grab it while Tank threw himself in front of their boss, using his massive frame as a shield.   
After that, complete and utter chaos broke out, and ten minutes later, it took four guys – Tank included – to wrestle Kylo to the floor and make him snap out of whatever fucking berserk mode he was in. It had taken ages just to get near him without being cut open by either of the two switchblades he had in his hands. The entire pub was in ruins, the would-be assassins – eight of them – dead or dying, bodies lying thrown like discarded ragdolls. People stupid enough to try and break it off had fared much the same, and the smell of blood and other bodily substances mixed with beer and whiskey permeated the air. It looked like a slaughterhouse, and Kylo… holy fucking shit, Kylo looked downright demonic – covered in blood, with an empty, shark-like stare, and a grin like a cat who’d just caught the fattest mouse in history. He was snarling and cursing, fighting against their hold with surprising strength.

Hux could do little else but stare in fascination at the display. He was glad the table in front of him had remained in place during Kylo’s little… _rampage_ , because he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been this fucking hard. The sight of his fixer grabbing one of those Russian fuckheads by the hair, slamming his face into the stone wall, and dragging him along for several feet, while his brain and blood left a broad smear against the white surface was by far the most arousing thing he’d seen in years. Forcing himself out of his reverie and taking a few steadying breaths, he directed his full attention to the scene in front of him.

“Kylo,” he said, calmly but firm. “Snap out of it!”

It didn’t work, and Hux ran a hand over his face, scratching a spot just underneath his eye-patch – discreetly checking whether or not he’d be able to stand up without people noticing his hard-on. It had thankfully died down enough by now that no one would really see it, and so he got up and walked over to the struggling man on the floor. Kneeling in front of his face, he put a hand on the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair in a soothing manner, before grabbing a handful and lifting his face up so he could look him right in the eyes. Then he brought the back of his other hand right across his face – the smack echoing loudly through the terrified silence of the pub.

“Kylo,” he said again. “Snap out of it, lad.”

To his surprise – and everyone else’s – it actually worked this time. Kylo blinked a few times, and then collapsed into a boneless heap underneath Tank and the others. Hux motioned for them to help him back on his feet. He sagged against Tank, looking absolutely exhausted, eyes unfocused and glassy.

“Alright, Tank,” Hux said. “Give him here. Phas, we’re leaving. Come on.” 

Tank handed the fixer over to his boss, who made sure to get a steady grip on him, before moving towards the exit – Phasma following close behind. Hux didn’t even need to tell them to get the cleaners in there – they’d been around for long enough to have the routine down to instinct by now. The owner wasn’t going to tell anyone, and neither was anyone else if they knew what was good for them. The cops sure as hell knew better; the only reason they came around was to assure the civilians that everything was fine, before dropping any and all charges that might have been filed. You didn’t fuck with the Huxes – not if you wanted to feed your family. Or live.

~*~*~

When they arrived back at the mansion, Hux instructed Phasma to call Tank and the others to check in on the cleaning up process before she went to bed. He’d take care of Kylo himself – it was his responsibility, after all. His fixer had informed him of his state of mind, and Hux had decided to bring him to the pub anyway, so any aftermath of that decision was by definition his to deal with. Kylo himself had been apathetic bordering on catatonic the entire way back from the pub, not responding to questions, not seeming to even notice the world around him, but instead just following along in whatever direction Hux moved him – as if he’d turned into some kind of life size doll. It was really fucking freaky, but Hux was determined not to let it get to him.

He got Kylo into his own room, and by means of gentle coaxing and some awkward shuffling around, managed to get him out of his blood-soaked clothes and leaving him in only his boxers – throwing the garments in the direction of his laundry hamper – before wrapping one of the soft blankets he kept on the bed around his lower half. Phasma, ever the angel, brought a bowl of water, a bunch of soft towels, and some band-aids, before retreating to her own room. She didn’t seem too bothered by the sorry state of Kylo, or his previous actions, but then again – Phasma wasn’t bothered by a lot of things. She had enough blood on her hands to have developed a very strong stomach, and if anything, she seemed mostly to feel compassion for the zoned out guy on the bed.

Hux went about cleaning the blood of Kylo’s upper body, gently scrubbing it off to allow the pale, tattooed, and scarred skin to surface again. It took a while, and he had to go change the water and towels two times before he even got to Kylo’s face. His hair was soaked through as well, but Hux was not going to strip an unconscious employee and stick him under a shower without due permission – especially when he wasn’t sure said employee wouldn’t react violently. He’d have to wash that himself when he came to. Deeming him adequately cleaned up, Hux got started on tending to the various cuts and scrapes mainly littering his hands, arms, and face. Most of them didn’t need any band-aids, but his knuckles were an entirely different story. Making another trip to the bathroom to fetch the antiseptic, he started to clean the damaged areas up. The sting of it brought Kylo back to reality, flinching away, looking like he was preparing to be struck. Hux didn’t move from where he was sitting on the footstool belonging to Kylo’s armchair.

“You’re alright, lad,” he said. “You’re at home. I had to get you a bit cleaned up before all the blood could soak into your mattress.”

Kylo’s eyes went wide, his eyes darting around the room, spotting the heap of bloody clothes, breath shallow and quickly as he hid his face in his hands.

“Oh, God,” he whispered, sounding near tears. “I did it again, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, sir! I’m so sorry! I take full responsibility for this. I should’ve locked myself up, I shouldn’t have gone! I’m so sorry!”

Hux gently hushed at him, trying to dislodge his hands from his face so he could have a look at him. Kylo appeared to be working himself right into a panic attack, and Hux knew he had to stop it before Kylo could hurt either himself or both of them. Managing to get a hold of the fixer’s hands, he rubbed them, careful not to touch the wounded parts. It seemed to help some, even if Kylo was as tense as a bowstring.

“Calm yourself, Kylo,” he said. “Breathe slowly. Come on, you can do it. No one’s mad at you, but you gotta calm down and tell me what happened to you tonight. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s goin’ on. Come on, lad. Breathe. There you go.”

It still took another twenty minutes before Kylo calmed down enough to speak, and the entire time – through exhausted tears and hyperventilating – Hux held his hands. He didn’t really want to admit that it kinda got to him a bit, seeing Kylo like this; acting like a dog who pissed on his master’s slippers and just waiting for the beating. The way he kept apologizing sure as fuck wasn’t helping, and when Kylo managed to croak out a request that Hux fetch him his meds from the bedside table on the other side of the bed, Hux wanted to punch something. The shame in his voice… shame at having to admit he needed medication to handle this, knowing how most people in this business felt about meds and the people taking them. Kylo wasn’t fucking weak! Jesus fucking Christ on a cross, Kylo wasn’t weak – anyone with eyes in their heads should be able to see that! Kylo didn’t look at him as he shook out two pills of Atarax from the bottle and swallowed them down with a gulp of water from the glass on his nightstand. His hands shook so badly he would’ve dropped both bottle and glass if Hux hadn’t helped steady him.

“Talk to me,” Hux said. Kylo bit his lip, still not meeting his eyes.

“I…” he started. “My head… It gets a bit- a bit messy sometimes. I don’t know what it is. It just… everything just gets too much, too loud, too bright, too much everything, and I get so agitated I don’t know what to do with myself. I just… I get _so angry_ , and then… then I just… snap. And I- I can’t remember, afterwards. I just sort of wake up, and then they tell me someone got hurt, or someone died, or I have a few thousand bucks to cough up to cover repairs or whatever.” He angrily wiped his eyes with the back of a hand. “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“The doctors didn’t give you any info when they gave you those?” Hux pointed towards the bottle of pills. Kylo shook his head.

“Got them prescribed in prison, sir,” he mumbled. “I… kinda did the same thing there, once. So the shrink gave me these. Got me covered for a while. But no, no diagnosis, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And the Solos?”

“The Solos would rather die than having one of their guys be seen at a shrink’s office. I… uhm, I took care of it myself for a while, but… it didn’t work.”

“And by taking care of it yourself you mean, what, drugs?”

Kylo glanced up at him, then back at the floor as he nodded.

“I did some, uhm, Xanax for a while. And… and some Oxy, and… stuff. But it didn’t work. The fucking Xanax just made it worse.”

“What other stuff, Kylo?” Hux knew the first two. It wasn’t all that unusual for people to use them for purposes other than what they were intended for. Kylo looked like he wanted to melt through the floor.

“Heroin. But- but only for a few months, and I’ve been clean for six years, sir. I promise!” 

Hux took his hands again, resuming the gentle stroking of undamaged areas.

“Hush now,” he said. “No reason to panic, Kylo. I believe you. I appreciate that you trust me enough to tell me this. It aint easy in this business, I know. But in this family we care for each other, okay? If you need meds to help keep you grounded when you get like this, then I’ll help you get set up for a proper prescription, okay? I don’t give a shit about stuff like that. As long as you, and everyone else, can tell me when you’re feeling shite instead of pretending you’re fine until you break, then that’s all I need.” He gave a broad grin. “Besides, it’s not everyday I get to witness eight Russians getting their arses handed to them by one single Italian lad. You impressed me tonight, Kylo. Even if you weren’t in control of yourself.”

His fixer looked at him like he’d just grown a second head.

“Wha-?” He frowned, apparently unable to process that last statement. “You’re… you’re not gonna punish me, sir? I went out of control. I could’ve hurt you, or Phas, or anyone. Oh, shit. Tell me I didn’t hurt Phas?”

“Phas is alright,” Hux assured him. “She’s quite impressed, too, to be honest. As for punishment… I’m only gonna say this once, Kylo, so you had better listen well, okay?” He waited for the other man to nod before continuing. “A man cannot and should not punish another – man or creature – for acting in accordance with their nature. Violence is in your nature, and you told me so straight up when I employed you. I am never going to punish you for these outbursts of yours, because you can’t control them. The only time I’m gonna punish you for anything is if you deliberately disobey or betray me. You gotta have intent, Kylo, and I always demand proof before I judge. Understood?”

“Yessir.”

“Good.” Hux was quiet for a moment. “Now, I need you to think about what you need, so I can help you control these episodes of yours. I need you to tell me what you need me to do. I’m your boss, Kylo. That means your health and well being is my responsibility. I’m giving you a few days off, and I want you to think it through properly. Alright?”

“Yessir. Thank you, sir.”

“Try to sleep, Kylo. You need it.”

~*~*~

The next morning, Kylo had showered the rest of the blood and gunk off, and dressed in a pair of loose cargo pants, a pair of tightly laced, worn GettaGrips, and a hoodie that seemed two sizes too big even on his broad frame. Most of his hair was hidden under a beanie, only a few strands had broken free and settled around his face and neck. He was even paler than usual, dark circles under his eyes, and he moved stiffly – no doubt sore all over from yesterday. Shuffling over to the table, he poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot, and scrunched his nose at the offer of bacon and eggs. Instead, he contented himself with an apple, eating it in small nibbles. Phasma shot Hux a worried look, and if the fixer noticed it, he gave no sign of it.

“How’re you feelin’ today, sweetheart?” she asked. She always called him ‘sweetheart’, ever since his first week. She was the only one who got away with it. “You don’t look so good.” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’m just tired… sore.” He looked at Hux. “Got a text from Poe Dameron, Tank’s cousin. He wants to meet for a coffee. That okay?”

“Of course,” Hux nodded over the edge of his newspaper. “He’s got good standing with us. I think it’d do you good to get out a bit. I have been working you kinda hard these past weeks. Dinner at seven, though, so don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

With that, he got up, threw the remains of the apple in the garbage, and left. Phasma followed his disappearing figure through the window until he’d gotten out of sight. 

“That shook him up pretty badly, didn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Got it under control?”

“Yeah.”

“Ethan.”

“I got it, Phas.” Hux folded the newspaper and put it down. “The lad’s fully aware of his problems, and he’s taken steps to handle it. But right now there’s not much I can do until he tells me what he needs me to do. I can’t just order this one around, Phas. He’s too obedient. I’ll hurt him.”

She looked at him and chuckled.

“Oh, you got it bad, E! You got it _so_ bad for ‘im, don’t you?”

Choosing not to dignify that with a response, mainly because she was right – as usual – and he didn’t feel like being the source of her amusement today, he got up and cleared the table.

“We’re one man short today,” he reminded her. “More work for us. Come on, let’s go.”

~*~*~

Poe met him at a cosy little café, Beans, in a neighbourhood that was some level of neutral ground. New York didn’t actually have any neutral ground, not really, but at least this neighbourhood was neither Irish nor Italian, and thus the closest thing to it. It was also Poe’s favourite place, and he’d dragged Kylo here frequently back when they were together – after the break up, too. It was their place. Kylo was glad Poe had wanted to meet him here where he could actually relax and just be Kylo for a little while. Naturally, Poe noticed right away that he wasn’t feeling too hot, and pulled him into a long, tight hug. Kylo could feel the tension melting away a little. He still felt like absolute shit, but a little less than ten minutes ago.

“Come on,” Poe murmured after a while. “Let’s find somewhere to sit, and I’ll get us some coffee, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.”

They found a spot in a corner at the back of the room, a plush couch with about a million cushions, and a little table built into the middle. It was large enough even for Kylo to curl up in, and it was secluded enough for them to be able to talk without worrying who overheard them – or, for that matter, having to worry about asshats staring at Kylo’s scar. Poe went and got their drinks; an extra large hot white chocolate for himself, and a large mocha latte with whipped cream for Kylo.

“Now, come on, tell me what happened,” he said as he sat down. “You had another episode?”

Kylo nodded, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, fiddling with the knot of his left boot for a little. Poe sighed, before crawling up on his side as well, pulling him close. Nothing worked as well with this kid as physical contact, and it baffled him how his parents hadn’t even bothered to give him that growing up.

“Can’t tell you much,” Kylo mumbled. “Boss hasn’t told me the details, and, you know, dunno if it’s classified or anythin’.”

“Tell me what you can, then. You know I can keep my mouth shut, Kylo. You’re my best friend, and I love you. I aint never gonna snitch on you. They have to kill me first.”

“I know.” Kylo bit his lip. “Eight.”

“Eight what?”

“Eight guys. I don’t know if I just hurt them, or… or if they’re dead.”

“You know what triggered it?”

“They tried to shoot my boss. I think I moved to stop them, but I don’t really remember.”

“How’d your boss handle it?”

“He…” Kylo stopped, bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth, until Poe reached out a finger and stopped him. “He took me home, Poe. Cleaned me up. He actually sat with me ‘til I calmed my ass down, can you believe it?”

“He didn’t say nothin’ about punishment or anythin’ like that?” Poe was amazed.

“Nah. I, uhm, I asked him, but all he said was that he wasn’t gonna do anythin’ like that unless I went and fucked shit up on purpose. He even…” He swallowed. “He said he’d even help me find a doc that could help me, you know, with my head.”

“But that’s great, Kylo!” Poe cheered and patted him on the thigh. “That’s fucking great news. Tank always said he’s a good boss, and I gotta tell ya, I thought he was just bullshittin’ until now. I’m happy for you!”

He could feel Kylo smiled against his shoulder. They lapsed into comfortable silence for a while, focused on their drinks, and just enjoying each other’s presence. Eventually, Kylo asked him about Finn, and Poe launched into an animated account of how they’d met and gotten together. Turned out Finn was affiliated with the Solos, and that he had a primary partner in Kylo’s cousin and former foster sister, Rey. But as long as Poe was happy, Kylo couldn’t care less about Finn’s affiliation. It sucked knowing he couldn’t meet the guy, but he’d live. Poe had informed him that Kylo would always be a priority, and that if Finn had a problem with Poe hanging out with him, then Finn could take the high road. Luckily, Finn was some sort of angel, judging by Poe’s description, and had given them his full blessing. Kylo blushed at the insinuation. Three years in the slammer kinda killed off your sex life, and he was trying hard not to think of it. They’d fucked on occasion even after Kylo had broken up with him, but things were different now – Kylo was different, and one of the reasons Kylo broke it off back then was because he needed something that Poe couldn’t give him. From the way Poe didn’t push the matter, he knew the older man understood and respected that, too. It wasn’t as if their friendship needed that bit, anyway. Eventually, they both got restless – always having had that in common – and went in search of something fun. 

Poe drove him home, dropping him off a street down from the mansion, after making him promise they’d hang out the following week, if Hux would let Kylo out to play then. It was just after six in the evening, and Kylo got himself and his little collection of bags inside the house, hoping to make it to his room before anyone tried to talk to him. There was nothing embarrassing in the bags, just some new clothes, a sketchpad and some pencils, but for some reason Kylo had always been very shy about his art – preferring to store the sketchbooks under his mattress over having someone find them and decide to have a look.  
Of course, he had no such luck. Phasma was in the kitchen, just about to start dinner, when he walked in. Immediately she dropped everything, going over to him and giving him a thorough inspection, followed by a hug which caught him completely off guard.

“You feel better,” she said when she let him go. It wasn’t a question. “Good.”

“I just needed to think about something else for a little,” he said. “Need any help with that?” 

“Wanna peel the potatoes?”

“Sure.”

“Good. Go put the stuff away, then come here and help me. Ethan’s in the shower. Millie threw up all over his office, be glad you missed it. She got some on her fur, poor baby, so we had to bathe her. Be very fuckin’ glad you missed _that_. He looks like he’s been to war now.”

Kylo chuckled and made short work of the stairs up to his room. On his bed was a still moist Millicent, looking like some demonic thing, her green eyes promising brutal murder to anyone stupid enough to go near her. Kylo heeded the warning and kept his distance, talking soothingly to the furry blob while he put his stuff away. She seemed to be at least a little placated by this, because she waddled over and plopped down on his sleep shirt and gave a resolute _mrrrow_. He made a mental note to wear a new shirt to bed that night.

~*~*~

Hux leaned on one arm against the tiled wall of his enormous shower space, the hot water cascading over his back, as he stroked himself harshly – visions of Kylo’s blood-soaked figure and the dead bodies flashing in his mind and causing him to feel as if someone set his blood on fire. Fuck, he wanted nothing more than to be able to drag Kylo back home next time, strip him down and make him ride him until neither of them could stand it any longer. Then he’d let the lad clean up. Or he’d tie him to the headboard, touch him until he couldn’t think about anything but Hux, make sure that messy head couldn’t remember the existence of anything but them. Oh, Christ, Hux bet he’d feel amazing underneath his calloused hands – that skin of his was so much softer than he’d thought, and it haunted him now.   
Working himself even faster as he felt the heated coil in his lower belly grow tighter, he couldn’t stop the thoughts about Kylo’s messy hair in his hands, what sounds he would make bent over a desk and shagged silly. What he would look like when he was begging, or tied up in yards and yards or the finest rope Hux owned. What would he look like when he spaced? That last thought tipped him over the edge, and he came all over the wall, not stopping his hand until he was all spent. Jesus, it had been a while now. He needed to get himself under some fucking control before he hurt Kylo. Sooner or later, he was going to have to be straight with him, tell him about his attraction. But remembering how well all that had gone with his ex-wife, Hux admitted to himself he was dreading it. It was one thing to admit attraction, and a whole other to admit being what he was.

Cleaning himself off, Hux tried not to think about it for now. Given how fucked up Kylo had been by yesterday’s events, the last thing he needed was for some bloke eight years his senior to start talking about feelings. And he still had a dinner to get through – preferably without any more indecent thoughts about his young fixer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, hiya!
> 
> Kylo went a little berserk, and I feel so sorry for him, poor thing! But to be fair, Hux shouldn't have dragged him along when he said he wasn't feeling too well. There will be an explanation for his rages, don't worry - but for reasons of spoilers you'll have to wait a little^^
> 
> Xanax is a benzodiazepine, commonly used to treat anxiety, which has a rather paradoxical effect, namely that it can actually cause rages instead of treating them. It, along with Oxycontin (a morphine type painkiller), are fairly commonly sold and used as drug by people who haven't had them prescribed so to speak. If Kylo told the docs he's abused either one, they're unlikely to give him anything stronger than Atarax due to the risk of addiciton. Especially with the added problem of him having used heroin, even for a short period. Atarax is an antihistamine, and you can't develop an addiction to it - so therefore it's rather safe in comparison. The dose he takes here is 50mg, which is half the maximum dose per day for an adult.
> 
> The attitude towards people with mental illness among criminals - at least the ones I've been around - is pretty shite. If you've got problems that require you to se a psychologist, you're considered weak and unreliable. Hux is rather radical for supporting Kylo instead of throwing him out. This will be important later, so make a note of it, yeah?
> 
> And yep, Poe, Finn, and Rey are in a proper, healthy poly relationship.   
> Because both Finn and Rey are with the Solos, Poe and Kylo have to meet on their own. If anyone were to see either Kylo and Finn, or Kylo and Rey together, it could lead to some serious problems. The Solos and the Huxes aren't on good terms at all. But Poe is not affiliated, so he does whatever he wants. 
> 
> Fun fact: Millicent in this fic is 85% modelled on my own cat, Licorice. The other 15% are the moments when Millicent is being sweet and cute.
> 
> I'm always available for questions, headcanons, and general nerdiness on my tumblr: ficlet-machine.tumblr.com


	4. Omertà

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for: mentions of murder, injuries, mentions of mental/physical abuse.

“Well I’ll be damned, Kylo, my mate!” Lex exclaimed as he looked up from where he was finishing up some cherry blossoms on some blonde chick’s shoulder. “I’ll be with ya in a sec, mate, just gotta wrap this up, ‘kay? There’s coffee in the office if ya want some. Mike,” he called, and a younger guy with considerably less ink popped his head out from a room behind the counter. “Get him some coffee – milk, no sugar – and then go ‘ome. Ye’re done for t’day.”

Kylo grinned and watched the poor apprentice scramble to do as his mentor ordered. _Lev19:28 Tattoo_ was like a second home to him, and he could entertain himself without problems. He sat down in one of the comfy armchairs just by the booth, where he wasn’t visible from the large windows, and admired Lex’ ever growing collection of art. The poor apprentice, what was his name – Mike? – came back out with and handed him a mug. The poor sod obviously didn’t know where to look, apparently having figured out that Kylo was not one of the “normal” customers and not wanting to get in any sort of trouble. Kylo smiled and thanked him as warmly as he could, causing a blush like a lesser solar storm, before Mike hurried to gather his stuff and get out of the shop. Lex chuckled sadistically behind from the booth. 

He made quick work of cleaning the girl up, slathering some Vaseline on the area and covering it with plastic. The after-care advice came rattling out of his mouth in the sort of machine-gun fire type way that develops after enough times of repetition. She was apparently trying to flirt with him, and he was having none of it, but eventually she left and Lex locked the door behind her. He turned to Kylo with a broad smile, and they hugged – a comical scene, no doubt, since Lex was five-foot-five and about as heavily built as a noodle; barely reaching Kylo’s shoulder, and dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a pink tank top at least three sizes too big. He had bright pink and black hair in a messy mohawk, and pretty much the only surface not covered in ink was his face. He lightly punched Kylo in the bicep.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, mate,” he laughed. “I missed ya! What the ‘ell were ya thinkin’ landin’ yerself in the slammer like tha’, huh?”

Kylo shrugged. The question would have angered him coming from anyone else, but Lex and him went way back. The short tattooist was a lot smarter and a lot meaner, and far more loyal than most people gave him credit for, and he’d been watching Kylo’s back since they were in kindergarten together. If Kylo hadn’t joined the family business, he’d probably be next to Lex, tattooing cherry blossoms on someone right now.

“Well, everyone’s got the right to be a sucker once,” he said. “Guess that was my once.”

“Well, as long as ya dun’ make it a twice. I shoulda come visit, but they dun’ like me much over there. Didn’t wanna cause any trouble for ya.”

“You must’ve left quite the impression if they’re still holding the grudge,” Kylo smiled.

“A tattooist’ll find a way to tattoo, mate. It aint no problem o’ mine if they take offense.” He cleaned up his work-space, peering up at his old friend. “I’m jus’ glad ya came out in one piece. So what’re we doin’ t’day? More bullets? Some tally marks? Yeah?”

“Yup. I need five more bullets, and sixteen tally marks.”

“No probs, mate. Gotcha stencils saved, jus’ lemme get set, and then ya can tell me what ye’re doin’ these days. Ya know I dun’ do no Solos, ‘part from ya, so I dun’ exactly get any updates or nothin’. Well, obviously Poe came ‘round few weeks ago, to tell me ‘bout yer new name an’ all that, but apart from tha’, nothin’.”

“Well, it’s a long story, Lex,” Kylo chuckled as he removed his shirt and laid down so Lex had access to the left side of his chest, where there were already a number of bullets and tally marks tattooed in neat rows, beginning just under his armpit and moving downwards. 

~*~*~

As he was leaving the shop, the clock nearing midnight, his phone rang. It was Hux, and he hurried to answer it.

_/Where are you?/_ Hux asked, not even bothering to say ‘hello’. There was a strange urgency to his voice.

“Staten Island,” he answered. “There a pro-”

_/Get home immediately. Stay off the main streets. We’re being targeted./_

“Yessir. I’ll call Poe. Ask him for a ride.” 

_/Good. Call immediately if he can’t drive you. I'll send someone./_

After hanging up, Kylo groaned in frustration. If they were being targeted, that meant someone fucked up. He wondered who, and what the fuck they’d done to provoke this reaction – and from who? The day had been going perfectly well, too! And then someone just had to go and _fucking ruin it!_ This was not the type of bullshit he needed right now – not after the other day. He made his way to a nearby diner that was open around the clock, making sure to stay away from the windows, before calling Poe and telling him about the situation. To his enormous relief, Poe was just making his way back home after a job, and didn’t mind coming to get him at all. Kylo told him where he was, and Poe promised to be there in fifteen minutes. Kylo exhaled a shaky breath and began counting down the minutes, moving his holster a bit to make for easier access should he need it, and making sure he had his knives ready. That strangely calm part of him that always surfaced at times like these made the observation that he might actually die on the floor of the same diner he’d had his first ever date, and where he and Lex had sat countless times to eat their greasy burgers while drawing the designs for Kylo’s many tattoos. He figured there were worse places to go. Death was many things, but never dignified – anyone claiming otherwise was a filthy liar. At least it wasn’t a gutter. At least it was warm and held good memories. That was about as much as one could hope for in this business.

With five minutes left, two guys walked in through the door, scanning the room. Apart from Kylo, there were only four people in there; the waitress, the cook, and a drunk couple who were arguing about something. He knew he’d been made when they started glancing over at him, while whispering to each other. They were speaking Italian, though he couldn’t make out the exact words. Shit. But they seemed a bit uncertain, still. They weren’t sure about him, he realized. They were trying to conclude whether or not he was an actual target, not wanting to take the risk of shooting the wrong guy. The scar and the longer hair must really be working in his favour for once – because all the Italians, not just the Solos, would have recognized him in a heartbeat three years ago. Ben Solo was notorious in his own right, but he had also been seen enough times at his parents’ sides that anyone should’ve gotten a good look at him. Now, though, it seemed as if he had finally become at least a little bit more anonymous to his countrymen.

Just as they seemed to be making their minds up, he saw Poe’s junk-heap of a car pull up outside, and he could see that Poe had seen the other guys, too, because he leaned over and opened the door on the passenger side. Thank God for that man and his observation skills. Kylo did his best to look casual as he got up and walked towards the exit, knowing he had to pass the men on the way. They didn’t seem to have counted on that, and their moment of confusion was all he needed to dart for the car, and dive into the seat next to Poe. They were off almost before Kylo had closed the door, a look in the rear view mirror told them they would be followed. Fuck. _Goddamn motherfucking piece of shitty situation!_

Poe drove as fast as he could go, trusting Kylo to keep a visual on their pursuers. They done this before, more than once, and so far they’d always come out of it without any injuries. In the end, it was a stoplight that saved them, and they managed to speed across the street just moments before a huge semi crossed it, forcing the other car to slam the brakes lest they’d end up a fucking smear, and allowing Poe to head for a small side-street and continue their journey safely. They weren’t under any illusions that the other car had given up; they never did. Kylo never did when he was on the hunt either – it just wasn’t how the shit was done. But at least they’d put a good distance between themselves and whoever the fuck those guys were, and sometimes that was enough.

Kylo called ahead to let them know they were coming. Poe couldn’t drive home by himself now, not when they’d been chased. He had to be given shelter for the night, and the guards at the house needed to let them through the gates. They did so, and as soon as Poe stepped out of the car, Tank caught him in a massive hug before checking him for any injuries until Poe managed to assure him they were both fine. Kylo headed for the living room as soon as they were inside. There were people everywhere, and everyone were in various stages of angry, stressed, scared, and just generally done with everything. Hux paced back and forth in front of the large fireplace, handing out orders in a manner that would put most army generals to shame. His one good eye flashed a venomous green from anger, and he cracked his knuckles repeatedly. When he caught sight of Kylo, he seemed relieved, and motioned for the fixer to come over.

“What the hell happened, sir?” Kylo asked. “Everything was alright when I left. Who fucked up?”

“We don’t know yet,” Hux growled, and Kylo shrank back a bit, an old habit. Better not stand in the way when the boss gets angry. Hux noticed. “I’m not mad at you, Kylo,” he sighed, patting him on the shoulder. “Someone shot one of our associates a few hours ago, over in Bronx. Then two of our enforcers got attacked with knives in a bloody diner in Brooklyn. We don’t know shite about the reasons for any of it, and it’s bloody infuriating! We’re calling everyone in to report, but we’ll probably not find the cause until morning.”

“They were Italian,” Kylo said, eyes on the floor. “At least some of them.” Hux stared at him.

“How do you know that?”

“They went after me, too.”

_“What?!”_

The entire room went silent, and everyone stared at their boss, ready to head for the hills. He gave a dismissive wave, and people cautiously went back to business. Kylo nodded.

“I was waiting for Poe in a diner near Lex’ shop,” he said, rubbing his neck. “These two guys came in – I’ve never seen them before, not that I can remember – and they spotted me. They weren’t sure about me, ‘cause they did a whole lot of whispering back and forth, and I realized it was in Italian. Don’t know how the fuck they knew where to look for me, but yeah. I got my ass out of there, but they followed us. We got away, and we’re not hurt or anything, but Poe needs to stay over. They know his car now.”

Hux just nodded and looked over at Tank and Poe, who were seated on the small steps leading down to the living room area, engaged in small talk. He absentmindedly adjusted his eye-patch as he surveyed the situation.

“You’ll be staying close to me now,” he said. “You used to work for the Solos, so if this is some Italian bullshite you’re most likely a target.”

Kylo shrugged.

“I’ve always been a target,” he said. “And I’m still standing. I can still get things done, just tell me what needs doing and I’ll do it.”

“Have you always held such a blatant disregard for you own safety?” Hux questioned, eyebrow raised. “Or did prison make you reckless?”

“I was raised to put family before individual, sir. As long as it keeps the family safe, I aint really all that worried about getting hurt. Plus, if you show them you aint scared of them, there’s not much they can do about it.”

“The Solos continue to hit ever new lows.” Hux sounded absolutely appalled. “For now, Kylo, you’ll do as I say. We’ll be doing a lot of talking to a lot of people, and I need you to watch my back. Once I’m a bit more sure what we’re dealing with, you’ll get to go out and play again.” He pursed his lips, eyes narrowed in thought. “I want you to have your tools with you at all times. We might need them.”

Kylo nodded, and excused himself to go grab a bite to eat. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he realized he was fucking starving. From his vantage point by the kitchen island he had a good view over the living room, hallway, and the driveway. It impressed him how smoothly this family ran, even in times like these. Hux gave orders, and within seconds they were being carried out. People always seemed to know exactly what to do, going from one task to another with admirable ease. While everyone were clearly upset and worried, it seemed as if Hux acted as an anchor to them all with his steady presence and confidently dealt orders. The cars coming into the driveway were quickly checked over before given a place to park by the guards; the lawn rapidly filling up with vehicles of all kinds. These were all people who’d been out in the field, Kylo realized. Of course. It would make no sense for people who were already safe at home to drive across half the city when they could just lock their own doors. But it was too risky for those out working to drive home now in case someone followed them, so Hux brought them all to the mansion. It would take a lesser army to break into this place, and if someone did, then well… they’d be sorry. The Huxes dealt in guns, which should be warning enough about their own capacity to defend themselves.

~*~*~

After everyone had been accounted for, and a lesser army of snoops, snitches, and crooked cops had been driven out of their beds by the Hux people to get out there and see what the fuck was going on, there really wasn’t much to do besides attempt to get some sleep. People dropped off in groups of twos and threes, the many floors and winding hallways swallowing them up easily. Phasma made it very clear that she sure as fuck wasn’t going to be dealing with the dishes, and that everyone clean up after themselves, before heading off to her own room – Millicent trailing behind her. Tank and Poe left shortly after, the latter going more than a full day without sleep and thus more than a little unsteady on his feet. Tank laughed merrily when he walked right into a doorframe, before simply tossing him over his shoulder – much to Poe’s dismay – and carried him to their shared room, teasing him in their native Spanish.

In the end, only Hux and Kylo were left in the huge living room, finishing their respective cups of tea – Hux lounging comfortably in an armchair, and Kylo stretched out like some giant feline on the thick rug in front of the fireplace. Once the cousins were out of sight, Hux reached up and removed the eye-patch – rubbing the area under his badly damaged right eye with clear relief on his face. It was the first time Kylo had seen him without the patch, and he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the sight. Hux’ right eye had an unhealthy milky grey covering his natural emerald colour, white spots and stripes of scar tissue visible across both iris and pupil. Small scars of various sizes dotted the area around the eye, and one larger scar ran in an irregular line across his eyelid from his brow and down to an inch below his eye.

“Shrapnel,” Hux said. “And a broken bottle, though not both at the same time.”

Kylo blushed, averting his eyes.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to stare or anything.”

“I know.” He leaned back in his armchair. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have taken it off if I thought you were going to make a fuss about it.”

“May I ask what happened, sir?”

“Car bomb. It was meant for my father and uncle, but it went off prematurely. The driver was killed, but my father and uncle somehow came out of it without a scratch. Me, I flew head first into a wall, and, obviously, got hit by some of the shrapnel - in the face, and some in my chest and legs. Broke a few bones, too, and had to stay in the hospital for a few days. I was thirteen. The bottle was St. Patrick’s Day, and I was drunk. Not a very inspirational story, really. I’m just glad the fuckin’ wanker got me in the bad eye, or I’d be blind now.”

“Thank you for telling me, sir.” Kylo couldn’t help but feel honoured that he’d been allowed to share this personal information, even though he guessed everyone else already knew it.

“You asked.” He got up, heading for the kitchen. “Go to bed, Kylo. I need you dressed and ready at ten.”

“Yessir.” 

Kylo was on his feet and heading for his room almost before Hux had finished the sentence. It was four in the morning already, and sleep had sounded like a good idea for hours already, but he was hired to be Hux’ bodyguard, and he took that description seriously. If Hux had stayed in the living room instead of joining him in going upstairs, the ginger wouldn’t have been able to get Kylo to move if he pulled a gun on him.

~*~*~

When they’d gotten some sleep, some coffee, and some initial hints of information from some of their more ambitious snoops, Hux told Kylo to get the car around. He needed to go have a chat with the chief of police, to make sure there would be no interference if and when the Huxes decided to strike back. Kylo didn’t really know what to think about the whole thing, and Hux – of course – picked up on his slight disapproval.  
They’d sat down at the back of a comfy little café, the waitress serving them both coffee before they’d even asked for it – the fear in her eyes signalling that she knew who and what they were and really didn’t want to get into any trouble. Hux poured some cream in his and stirred slowly while studying Kylo’s face. The fixer was, as always, keeping an eye on their surroundings, brown eyes not missing a single movement around them. Hux was always impressed by people who could monitor an entire space like this without even looking like they tried. To anyone looking at them, Kylo looked like the typical younger partner or protégé, slouched a bit in his seat, sullenly glancing at the people around him as if they’d personally offended him by their mere presence. If only they knew how quickly he could go from spoiled, sulky brat, to disciplined, deadly, enforcer. It was quite captivating, really. But Hux could see the well-hidden unease, and decided it was better to address this before the commissioner got there, rather than after.

“You don’t like this,” he said. “Explain to me why.”

Kylo looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Omertà,” he said, as if that explained everything. Realizing that it apparently didn’t, he scratched his neck awkwardly. “Don’t talk to the police. _Ever_. About anything. Even if someone shot your granny or kidnapped your kids, don’t say a single word to them.” He chewed on his lip for a moment. “You know, I’ve killed people for doing what we’re doing now. This is a bullet in the face type of thing for me, and now you tell me we’re gonna have a sit down with the fucking police commissioner, drink our coffee and be all _nice_ to each other. Sorry sir, but to me he aint never gonna be anything but my number one enemy. I can’t… I can’t just _ditch_ that. Omertà means something to me, okay? It’s like my first commandment. I had that beaten into me before I could even speak a full sentence.”

Hux mentally smacked himself. Of course! Kylo was raised in affiliation to the Solos, who were of Sicilian origin. He’d seen the word tattooed in the centre of the massive piece on Kylo’s chest when he cleaned him up after the pub incident, but he hadn’t thought much of it then. He realized that he really should have. Of course omertà was more than a word to him, and Hux felt like an idiot for not thinking about that earlier. His fixer must be feeling extremely conflicted at the moment, with years of conditioning being pushed to its limits.

“I see,” he said. “While I understand that this is a vital part of who you are – a part which I deeply respect – I must for the moment ask you to put it aside. Commissioner Lewis is on my payroll, and has been for years. We treat him well, because he keeps us out of a whole lot of shite. He also makes sure none of our… indiscretions lead to any repercussions. He was the one who made sure what happened at the pub was kept off of any records.” Hux hated himself for bringing that up, but Kylo needed to understand that the Irish did business in other ways than what he was used to. “Now, can I trust you to behave, or do you want to wait in the car?”

Kylo looked like he’d just been kicked, not meeting Hux’ eyes at all when he gave a small nod.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, voice tinted with shame. “I was out of line. Won’t happen again.”

Hux didn’t get a chance to assure him that he wasn’t in any trouble, because commissioner Lewis picked that exact moment to approach their table, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of Kylo. The fixer got up, gave him the mandatory pat down, and pointed to a chair next to himself and opposite of Hux. The commissioner hurried to sit down, making sure not to get too much into Kylo’s space. The whole scene was rather comical from Hux’ view, because both men were of similar height and build, though the commissioner was a lot more fluffy around the middle than Kylo. Kylo himself sat down and calmly sipped his coffee, fiddling with his phone and generally giving the impression that he wasn’t all that interested in the conversation.

“So, uhm, Mr Hux,” Lewis greeted. “I- I didn’t know you worked with the Italians.”

Kylo’s eye narrowed, and Hux raised a brow.

“I don’t,” he said. “Mr Ren works for me. I employed him a couple of months back as a bodyguard. I believe what happened at _Fiddler’s Green_ should be proof enough that he is most capable of doing his job.”

Lewis looked like he was going to piss himself when he stared at Kylo. The fixer shot him a cheeky grin, which really didn’t help the situation, but which amused Hux endlessly despite. The commissioner seemed to forcefully pull himself together, but he couldn’t stop sending nervous glances Kylo’s way.

“About last night,” he said. “So far we haven’t got much. Poor sod who got shot, Mickey Fitz- uhm, something or other, took two bullets. One in the lower right abdomen, one in the throat.”

“Sloppy,” Kylo commented. Lewis nodded.

“Very. The one in the throat did him in. Hit an artery. Wasn’t much anyone could do to save him.”

“What kind of bullets?”

“Point forty, ball point. Pretty standard everything. Probably a Beretta, given how fucking easy they are to get a hold of, but we’re still waiting for the facts on that.”

“Thank you,” Kylo said. There was a hard set to his jaw, Hux noticed. 

“And the other two?” he asked.

“One didn’t make it,” Lewis shrugged. “Knife got him right where it counted. The other one’s still alive but critical. My guys at the hospital says they’re keeping him under for now.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Hux, look. You and you’re family are the big shots around here, and I really appreciate all you do for me and my guys, but if you’re gonna go off on some mobster vendetta type shit, it’s gonna be real hard for us to keep it under wraps, okay? We aint gonna be able to watch your backs when we’ve got all of New York screaming for your blood.”

Hux raised an eyebrow.

“You will do as you are told,” he said. “Every choice you make has consequences, Mr Lewis. You chose to take our money, and now you belong to me. If I tell you to keep this quiet, then you will do whatever necessary to get it done. And if you can’t do it, then I will most certainly find someone else who can. Would be a shame, though, for your wife to be widowed at such a young age. How’s her health, by the way? Did the new medicine work?”

“Y-you bastard!” Lewish whined. “Don’t you dare touch her! Not Louise! I’ll do everything I can, just, please. Louise needs me.”

“Then I suggest you don’t give me any reasons to come visit, commissioner,” Kylo said, leaning close and whispering into his ear. “I know you know my old name. Tell anyone about that, and I will pay you that little visit – no matter what he says. Understand?”

Lewis nodded frantically, and the second Hux nodded for him to go, he shot out of the café. Hux looked at his fixer as he calmly drank the last of his coffee. That last little display had been incredibly intriguing to watch – sensual, yet oh so menacing. It wasn’t very conducive to his ability to walk out of there within the next few minutes, and he muttered internally to himself that it really had been too long now, if petty things like this were enough to make him stand to attention. He focused on his own coffee, drinking it despite it having gone a bit cold by now, at least trying to show the frightened waitress some courtesy. Kylo waited patiently for him to finish – that kicked look having settled right back across his features now that there was no one around to scare. He was fiddling with his phone again, apparently playing some sort of quiz game. Kylo did that a lot: fiddled with things, tried to keep his hands occupied, focused on some menial little task or problem. Hux wondered if perhaps it had something to do with his issues, if he’d developed these little behaviours as some kind of coping strategies for when he got anxious – he only seemed to do it when he was stressed and/or insecure, so it seemed plausible. They’d have to talk about that later, but right now they had places to be and people to see. The second he stood up, Kylo stopped fiddling, put his phone away – morphing into his professional persona with an ease that came from years of training as they exited the little café and headed for their car.

~*~*~

“What the fuck?” a guy sitting in a car exclaimed as he saw the boss of the Hux family get in the car along with a very familiar figure. “Hey Lando! Wake up, man! Is that Ben?”

Lando startled awake from his colleague’s poking, and turned to look where he pointed. No way. No fucking way in hell! 

“That’s Ben!” he gaped. “What the ever-living _fuck_ is Ben doing with that Hux bastard? Jesus Christ. We gotta tell Han.”

~*~*~

Every bit of information pointed towards the Italians, and Hux was not happy about it. As the day had gone on, his good eye had steadily taken on a more and more steely glare, the green of the iris almost venomous-looking in its intensity. He dished out orders to the family with a voice that crackled with barely withheld anger they began planning their response.  
Kylo was struggling with it more than he let on. He’d grown up with two parents whose fits of anger tended to be unleashed at anyone and anything that happened to be nearby, and Kylo still had scars both mental and physical from several such experiences. He’d come to learn that when the boss was angry, you’d get an ass-kicking if you happened to come too close or say the wrong thing. If you fucked up, disobeyed, embarrassed him, or just acted too cocky, you’d get an ass-kicking – in front of everyone. Han Solo may look like a good-natured, old fashioned hustler, but behind the scenes he ruled the Solo family with an iron hand, and he never hesitated to get rid of whoever annoyed him too much. Paired with his mother’s scathing tongue and manipulative mind, hidden behind a sweet smile and a good hand with non-affiliated people, they made a perfect duo of tyrants – and no one ever knew, because of the omertà. 

Knowing he’d stepped out of line earlier today, he just couldn’t get himself to stop feeling anxious and afraid of punishment. He knew both Phasma and Hux had noticed the way he flinched back and avoided eye-contact, not speaking unless spoken to, and generally trying to make his huge bulk appear as small land non-threatening as possible. It was humiliating, but he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop himself from waiting for the strike of a hand against his face, a riding crop against his back and shoulders, a sharp tongue listing his every last little flaw until he was crying and begging forgiveness for existing. It hadn’t even been a week yet since his meltdown, and he hadn’t really gotten his shields back up yet. God, he was so fucked up!

In the end he just couldn’t take the pressure, and left the room without a word when Hux had started chewing someone out for being negligent about something security related at one of his warehouses. Consequences be damned, but he had to get away from there before he had a panic attack! Plopping down on his bed, he curled into a tight ball, trying to focus on breathing and thinking good things. Millicent, who had appeared out of nowhere when he neared his door, sniffed his face with a concerned look, before jumping up and curling into a ball on his hip. She was really heavy, but the weight of her felt good – grounding, and her purring soothed his ragged nerves. They must have laid like that for hours, when eventually there was a knock on the door.

“May I come in?” Hux’ voice came from the other side.

“Yeah,” Kylo called back, wincing at how cracked his voice sounded as he sat up. 

Millicent took offense at the sudden noise and movement, and as soon as Hux opened it, she disappeared past him. Hux shot her a glance, muttering something about her needing new diet food, before coming into the room and sitting down at the foot of Kylo’s bed.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You left so suddenly, and you haven’t been yourself at all this afternoon.”

Kylo blushed a little. He wasn’t all that good at handling concern, tended to just laugh it off, but he had a feeling Hux wouldn’t like that much – and since he was already on the shit list today, he didn’t wanna take the chance.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I’m just… It takes a while, sometimes, to get back into the game after I’ve had an episode. And, uhm, it kinda makes me a little sensitive to some stuff.”

“Stuff like what?”

“Well, I… fuck. Uhm, let’s just say that when Han Solo gets angry, you don’t want to be the one who stands too close. It always got kinda… you know, violent over there, and I kinda have a hard time now, when you get pissed. Because I’ve been on the receiving end so many times, I kinda just associate anger with getting my ass beaten to a pulp for breathing too loudly. I know you’re not him, but my head… I can’t stop myself reacting like this, okay?”

“Even if you know I’m not angry with you specifically?”

“I fucked up today, didn’t I?” Kylo picked at the skin of his thumb, pulling off tiny bits of skin, and causing some blood to surface. “You have reason to be angry with me.”

“I should have thought it through more thoroughly before we went there,” Hux said, reaching out a hand to stop him from causing further damage to his poor thumb. “We don’t have the same type of code as your people do. It didn’t really cross my mind until we were at the café, and that’s on me. I should have given you some more time to process it before I put you into that situation, considering you are Italian and even we Irish know you don’t exactly love the police. But I think you handled it admirably, considering.”

“You’re not angry?” Kylo hated himself for sounding so small, eyes fixed on where his hand was held between Hux’.

“No. Not at you, at least. At this whole fucked up situation? Oh, you bet I am.” Hux reached out and tilted his chin up so he would have to look at him. “But I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“I need you to tell me what you need right now. You’re as tense as a bowstring, lad. What do you need to help you calm down?”

“Uhm, I thought I had a while to think about that?”

“Yes, you do. It’s good that you take that seriously. But I am asking for right now. Kylo, I can see how hard you’re working to keep those tears away, and you’re fiddling. You fiddle when you’re anxious. Tell me how to help you.”

Kylo looked away, shame tinting his cheeks red. He knew what worked, what always worked, but he didn’t know if he could tell Hux. Not when he was so emotionally attached, because if Hux denied him, it would break his heart. 

“Kylo. Tell me.” It was an order, and Kylo always followed orders.

“I need… uhm, physical contact helps.”

“Come on, then,” Hux said, pulling him along to the little couch, so he could put his head in Hux’ lap while the ginger watched TV. Once Kylo got comfortable, Hux draped one arm protectively around his shoulder, while running his finger through Kylo’s hair with the other. Kylo melted into his touch, feeling the tension leaving his body with every stroke of that pale hand. It felt so good to lie here like this, it felt right. Like he belonged here, head in Hux’ lap, feeling the strong muscles shift under him. It felt like home.

Phasma came an hour later to bring them down to dinner, but seeing Hux asleep in Kylo’s couch, with the latter curled up in his arms like an oversized kitten – also asleep – made her chuckle softly, before heading back down. Looked like her cousin wasn’t the only one who had it bad, if the way Kylo’s right hand clung on to the front of his boss’ shirt was anything to go by. Now, she could only hope that they’d be adults about it and talk it out with each other. Having two lovesick men under one roof was not an experience she really felt she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to be a tattooist, okay. And I hung out with a lot of career criminals, because it was that kind of shop and that kind of town. When our "outlaw" customers need appointments, they come in after closing if they can, and yes, for the most part we try to get any apprentices/shoppies/other customers out of the shop for that. In case shit goes down + they always want to talk business, and no one else needs to hear that. So, Lex' behaviour is standard procedure.
> 
> Kylo has a lot of tattoos. Big tattoos. They'll be described eventually^^ His chest piece exists in the shape of a drawing over on Tumblr. I think it's rather clear what the bullets and tally marks are for, but I hope everyone could guess. Kylo's not a very nice person.
> 
> Why does everyone get all spooked by being targeted? Because this isn't Hollywood. In the real world, no matter how bad you think you are, when someone targets your crew and you don't know who, or why, you do get really scared - even if you're Ethan Hux. Trust me on this.  
> And we have a culture clash! Omertà is the code of silence which most Italian (primarily Sicilian) crime families live by. This is a code they take extremely seriously, and will kill to uphold. Kylo was raised with it, Hux was not. The Irish, of course, have their own codes and laws, but nothing like the Omertà. So, naturally Hux kinda forgot about it - because he's human and it's not a part of his own set of rules - until he got a reminder that it's a vital part of Kylo's world view. But he handled it pretty well, all things considered.
> 
> And yes, Han and Leia were physically and emotionally abusive - not just to Kylo, but to other people as well. Kylo just happened to take the brunt of it. I'm basing his reactions and issues related to it mostly on my own experiences, so if I'm being too vague about something, or I describe it poorly, poke me, and I'll fix it!
> 
> And, uh-oh! Kylo got spotted! I wonder, I wonder, how Mr Solo himself will react to those news. Hm....
> 
> As always, your comments make me a flailing little blob of happy, so do tell me what you think of the chapter before you leave, yeah? And I'm always available on tumblr: **ficlet-machine** , so come be nerdy with me!


	5. Sweet Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for: graphic description of torture.

Hux was jolted awake by the alarm on Kylo’s phone. Reaching over to the small table, he managed to turn it off, the numbers on the display informing him that it was 6:30, and time to “get the fuck out of bed, you lazy ass!”. Really fucking charming. Taking a second to shake the sleep off and re-orientate himself, he realized he’d slept the entire night on Kylo’s couch, with Kylo himself snuggled close – draped over his chest like a blanket. He remembered being comfortably leaned back in the couch the night before, but during the night, they had apparently both moved into a horizontal position with Hux laying on his back, and Kylo tucked in between him and the back of the couch. It was surprisingly comfortable.

In his arms, Kylo stirred, obviously also woken up by the alarm, but slower to respond, and oh, wasn’t he just a sight to behold as he lifted his head to look at Hux. Black hair tousled and messy from sleep, face soft and boyish – an innocence belied by the scar running across it – and a bashful smile making its way across those glorious lips. Fuck. He couldn’t stop himself from zoning in on them, the close proximity between them would let him lean forward and capture them with his own quite easily. Was the lad even aware of what a goddamn walking temptation he was? Probably not. But he seemed to share Hux’ thoughts, eyes drifting across his face to settle on his lips, unconsciously biting his own plump lower one. They stayed like that for what felt like forever, slowly drifting closer. _Shit_. Shit shit shit! _Fuck_. Hux’ head was one long string of profanities because this wasn’t how he was going to do this, goddammit! He was going to be a bloody responsible adult and make sure they talked shit through before they did this! Managing instead to cup Kylo’s face in his hands and bring their foreheads together, painfully aware of how ragged both their breaths was becoming, he tried to calm himself somewhat – but it was really fucking hard not to lose himself in those big brown eyes.

“Listen, Kylo, I want this to happen,” he said, needing Kylo to understand he wasn’t being rejected. “Fuck it, lad, I really want to do this. You drive me crazy, Kylo. But we can’t right now.”

“Why not?” Oh, God, those hazel eyes looked so lost and hurt all of a sudden. _Shit_.

“Because we need to have that talk first,” he said, gently caressing his cheek, falling into the temptation of running his thumb over his lips. Oh, fuck, they were the softest thing he’d ever felt. “I need to know that we both know what we’re getting into here. I’m not sure you understand what you do to me.” Kylo looked away, blushing. Hux coaxed his gaze back to his own. “I’m not rejecting you, Kylo. Not at all. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Then talk,” Kylo said, clearly irritated. “I’m not some fucking stupid virgin. I can handle whatever it is you’re so worried about.”

“Yeah, I know. It doesn’t matter, Kylo. We still need to talk about it. Properly. Preferably when we’re not both laying down.” Kylo looked far from convinced, but nodded anyway. “We’ll talk tonight, yeah? Phasma’s got a date, so it’ll be just us. Okay?”

“…Okay.”

They broke apart, both of them suddenly aware of rumpled clothing, fabric clinging awkwardly to clammy skin, and general smelliness in the air around them. A shower and breakfast had to take priority at the moment; they had a lot of things to do.

~*~*~

Around ten am, after a rather awkward breakfast and a number of exasperated sighs from Phasma, Lewis called with the ballistics report from the shooting, informing them that the weapon had indeed been a Beretta, a common model, and Kylo didn’t need more proof than that.

“It’s the Italians,” he said, as soon as Hux had hung up.

“How do you know?” Phasma asked. “Like he said, they’re pretty common – anyone can use them. I mean, _we_ import them in big numbers yearly.”

“Beretta is an Italian brand,” Hux said, taking a drag of his cigar, sending Kylo a thoughtful look. His fixer nodded.

“They are,” he said. “And, like you said, Phas, they’re easy to get hold of. Which is why most of the Italians use them. They’re standard equipment for the Solos, and both the Sapienzas and the DiMarcos, too. Hell, I ran around with a Beretta on my hip for at least five or six years, too. Always point forty, ball point bullets. Because they’re so bloody common, the cops haven’t even thought about the chance of someone taking advantage of that.”

“Hiding in plain sight,” Hux murmured. “The Italians use them because they’re so common. To make sure they’re not immediately suspected?”

Kylo nodded. Phasma sighed.

“I’ll start trying to find out who else imports them and see if I can get them to stop, at least for a little. You two should go find someone who’ll talk. I think we’ll need some confirmation before we do anything.”

“You don’t say?” Hux snorted and tipped some ashes from his cigar. He turned to Kylo, who was sprawled out in one of the chairs, fiddling with his phone – again. “I’d rather not let you out on your own right now, Kylo, and I’m sorry but that’s not negotiable. I will, however, need you to be in charge of interrogating whoever we manage to get a hold of. I’ll send Tank and the boys out to hunt right away. You know a good place for them to start?”

“ _Farrelli’s_ ,” Kylo responded, not looking up. “Or _The Falcon_. _Farrelli’s_ is a restaurant, in Astoria. _The Falcon_ ’s Han Solo’s place, just so you know. It’s a gambling joint tryin’ to look like a regular bar. Half the fencers in the city go there to deal. It’s in Whitestone. I’d go with _Farrelli’s_ if I were you, though. Most of the Italian families go there, while _The Falcon_ is mainly full of Solos and, you know, their hangarounds. Maybe not really worth the ri-”

He was interrupted by his phone – it was Tank, and he hurried to answer. He knew the older man never called if it wasn’t important.

“Tank! What’s up, man?” He listened for a moment, and Phasma and Hux watched him go pale, eyes widening, before his jaw took on that hard-set look. “Aight, man, I’ll tell the boss. You just try to keep shit under control, okay?” He hung up and looked over at his employer. “Someone just threw a Molotov through the window of Aunt Sandra’s Café. Tank’s boys are chasing them down now.”

~*~*~

As always, Tank and his crew got the job done. They managed to catch one of the perpetrators some hours later, after an intense chase, and he was currently chained to a chair in the basement of one of Hux’ warehouses down by the docks. One of the many perks of owning a large-scale transport and shipping company, like the Hux family’s _First Order Transports Intl._ , was that no one questioned your need for a huge number of warehouses and storage spaces. They were never without a quiet, secluded, and definitely cop-free place to go for these… _activities_. This one was particularly suited for tonight’s purpose, being one of the few with a culvert system running underneath it, complete with underground rooms and proper plumbing. No one would hear so much as a squeak from here, and no light would be seen through the windows and raise suspicions.

Kylo really appreciated this about his new family. Interrogations tended to be really fucking loud affairs, seeing as he couldn’t gag them or anything while he was working since it kinda went against the entire purpose of what he was doing. The Solos were sloppy with these things. Kylo had done interrogations in the most random places, usually with really loud music around to cover the screams, or out in some godforsaken patch of woods fuck knows where – hoping no idiot hiker or whatever overheard them. Yeah, really sloppy. This room, however, he liked. It wasn’t that big – thirteen by thirteen feet tops – a fixed light in the ceiling, a small sink by the door, and a drain in the concrete floor. Someone had been kind enough to place a small table in there as well, for him to lay all his stuff out on. It worked wonders to let them see just how many nasty things he could do to them, and he always took his time with it. Hux, Tank, Phasma, and a few others leaned against a wall to the opposite side of the room from his table, and a few others were guarding the corridor outside.   
He’d done his preparations already, researching the man, finding weak spots, never letting himself be stressed by the knowledge that the poor sucker would be sitting in that chair for hours while he dug around in his business. It was part of the job, and Kylo was frightfully good at his job. The man in question, a bulky looking guy in his thirties, didn’t look as tough as he probably thought, and Kylo smiled to himself as he finally turned to acknowledge him.

“Hello,” he said politely. “My name is Kylo, and I’m going to be asking you some questions tonight.” He leaned in a bit, studying him closer, tilting his head a bit as he tucked a strand of hair behind the man’s ear, gently, almost lovingly. “It’s really easy, I promise. I will ask you a question, and you will answer it truthfully to the best of your knowledge. For every lie you tell me, there will be pain. Understand?” The man just stared at him, trying to keep himself together, obviously. But this wasn’t Hollywood, and they both knew that once you ended up tied to a chair, you were pretty much screwed. “Now, we’re going to start easy,” Kylo continued. “Just a few control questions, to make sure you understand my rules. Then we’ll get to the real questions.”

The man nodded, looking like he was trying to steel himself. Kylo patted him on the shoulder.

“What’s your name?” he asked. 

“F-Frank,” the other man mumbled, looking at the floor. “Frank Accosi.”

“How old are you, Frank?”

“Thirty-six.”

“What’s your wife’s name?”

Frank’s head shot up, eyes wide. Kylo repeated the question, patiently, like a parent explaining something to a small child.

“Amanda,” Frank said eventually. Kylo caressed his cheek.

“Good boy. Do you have any children, Frank?”

“N-no.”

Kylo’s gentle smile turned to ice.

“Lie.” He walked over to his table, retrieving a piece of paper. On it was the picture of two girls, clinging to the waist of the man in front of him. Holding it up close to Frank’s face, he shook his head in mock sadness. “You have two daughters. Lovely girls, I’m sure. But see, now we have a problem, Frank. You lied. So now I have to put some pain on you.” 

Tossing the photo to the side, he picked up a long, thin, needle-like thing from the rows of instruments on the table. Carefully placing the tip in the junction just between his kneecap and shin bone, Kylo gave him a sweet smile before jamming it in with one swift move. Frank screamed, and the fixer stroked his hair in soothing motions.

“I know, I know,” he murmured. “It’s horrible, isn’t it? But I told you the rules, and you broke them. Now, I think you understand it better, so let’s get to the point, yeah?” Frank nodded frantically. “Who sent you?” 

“S-Sapienza,” Frank croaked. “The Sapienzas.”

“The Sapienzas aren’t big enough to act on their own,” Kylo said. “Who ordered it?”

“I- I don’t know!”

“Lie.” Kylo took out another one of those needles, and repeated the procedure on his other knee. “Who ordered it?”

“Solo!” Frank was nearly sobbing by now. “T-the Solos ordered it – I think!”

“You ‘think’? Frank, I don’t like guesses, okay? Tell me straight; was it the Solos or not?”

“Yes! Oh, God, please let me go now! Please!”

“Aw, Frank, I’m so sorry, but you’re not going anywhere. Why did they want you to do it?”

Frank sobbed. Undignified, snot-laden, heavy sobs. Kylo tutted at the mess, and carefully wiped his face with a paper tissue, fussing over him like a concerned parent before continuing.

“Why did they send you to torch our property, Frank?” he asked.

“They didn’t tell us! Please, you have to believe me! I’m just an enforcer, I don’t get told why! _Please!_ ”

Kylo glided around to stand behind him, gently massaging his shaking shoulders and arms in a way that was damn near sensual, while whispering soothing nothings in his ear.

“I believe you,” he said, placing a little kiss on his temple. “I know. It must be frustrating for you, to just do your job and then get thrown under the bus like this. Now, if you don’t know why, then I want you to tell me who. Who gave your people the order? What did they look like?”

“Some black guy, I dunno. I never caught his name, I swear! Older guy, a little chubby. That’s all I know, okay? That’s all!” He turned his head a bit, a bold move in his present situation. “Please, please, let me go! I won’t tell no-one! Please just let me go home!”

Kylo shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Frank. But you’re not going home tonight. There’s still a few more things I want to ask you.”

Three hours later, Frank Accosi was dead. What was left of him was wrapped in layers and layers of plastic, before the cleaners took over and brought the corpse somewhere where people wouldn’t go looking. They had more answers now, but also more questions – but for the moment, Kylo didn’t give a shit. He needed to get home, take a shower, and get rid of the… _problem_ going on in his pants. Having Hux’ eyes on him the entire time, feeling the heat of that green gaze as he picked that poor fucker apart had him rock hard and struggling to keep his composure. He’d risked glancing over at his boss once, and the sheer hunger in that emerald eye nearly made him come on the spot. And after the incident that morning, Kylo was even more receptive than usual to Hux’ dominating presence. He wanted Hux to tell him he did good; couldn’t help it. To hear him tell him how proud he was, how beautiful his work had been. Hux wouldn’t even have to touch him, Kylo suspected – he’d probably come from the praise alone. He was not a very good man, he remarked to himself. Not a very good man _at all_.

~*~*~

“I’m sorry about your date, Phas,” Hux said once they were in the car and heading back home.

Phasma looked up from where she was texting someone on her phone, and grinned smugly.

“Don’t worry, I’m still going on that date,” she said. “Kylo, can you drop me off on the way?”

“Sure thing,” Kylo said, eyes still on the road. “Just tell me where.”

She gave him the address, and he nodded, before changing course. Hux looked at her smiling face as she re-immersed herself in the texting.

“When do I get to meet this guy, girl, uhm, person?” he asked. “Not often we get to see you this happy. I’d like to meet whoever makes you feel this way.”

“His name’s Dopheld,” she said. “And he’s not in this business at all. I mean, he’s related to one of the Japanese families, but he’s not involved.”

“Dopheld?” Hux questioned. “The hell kind of name’s that?”

“His name,” she said coldly. “And I happen to like it.” She glanced between them. “And he’s making a late night dinner for me right now, like the sweet, caring, _gentleman_ that he is – unlike some men I know. Speaking of which, I know the two of you’ve got shit to sort out, but when I come home tomorrow… if I find you naked somewhere that aint your rooms, I’ll kill you both. Also, don’t you dare leave clothes everywhere on the way either! I am not cleaning your underwear up from the floor, okay?”

“Phasma!” both Kylo and Hux yelled in embarrassed shock.

“Oh, come on!” she snorted. “You’ve been eye-fucking each other since Kylo started with us. Just get it on already, jeez. What are you, twelve?”

“I absolutely refuse to have this conversation right now,” Hux stated. “Kylo, turn on some music.”

Kylo didn’t need to be told twice, and the car was blessedly void of conversation the entire way to this Dopheld guy’s place. Hux made Phasma promise at least three times that she’d have the guy drive her home the next day – it was too dangerous for her to take the subway or a cab right now. It was unnecessary, he knew that; Phasma could take care of herself, she always had, but he never could help being overly protective of those he cared about. She knew this, of course, which was why instead of being annoyed, she pecked him on the cheek as she grabbed her bag and went inside the very nice looking house.

~*~*~

Dopheld turned to smile at her when she came into the kitchen, before reaching for a bottle of what looked like very expensive white wine and poured her a glass. He had to reach up to give her a small kiss on the cheek as he handed her the glass, and Phasma fought back a blush. Always having been taller than every single guy or chick she’d dated, she’d always felt awkward – especially with the guys. Too many times had they bitched about her wearing heels, or how being shorter than their woman made them feel inadequate – and though she wouldn’t admit it even under torture, it did get to her. Then she met Dopheld, a tiny, weedy, and surprisingly ruthless business lawyer, who looked at her like she put the sun in the sky, not even remotely intimidated by either her surname or height. 

In fact, on their third date, he’d fidgeted for about half an hour before asking why she wore flat shoes when they dated, apologizing for his lack of height, before being abruptly stopped by her kissing him. She’d confessed to hating wearing flats but some bad experiences had made her worried about making him feel bad by being even taller than usual. He’d looked absolutely mortified, then promptly dragged her to a very exclusive boutique, and told her to pick out a pair of heels that she liked. They’d cost a lesser fortune, but he’d paid it like it was nothing, and told her she should never worry about making him feel inadequate. He didn’t care that he was short and she wasn’t, he cared about making her feel happy.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” she said, coming up to the stove to have a look at what he was making. He was a good cook, he really was. “Once Kylo gets going, he’s hard to stop.”

Dopheld smiled, encircling her in his arms and resting his head against her chest.

“No need to apologize, Phas,” he chuckled. “I know how it is. You just wait until I get landed with a major project – I’ll be buried in paperwork around the clock, and you’ll have to drag me out by my hair if you want me to go somewhere.” He got a small spoon out and carefully dipped in the large pot, holding it up to her. “Here, see what you think of that.”

She tasted it, unable to hold back a happy groan.

“That’s delicious! What is it?”

“Seafood bisque. I figured you might not want something too heavy this late at night.” 

“I love you,” Phasma said, amazed at this tiny angel of a man she’d found. “I really love you.”

He blushed, like he always did, smiling from ear to ear.

“I love you too, Phas.”

~*~*~

The silence in the car after they’d dropped Phasma off was awkward, to say the least. Neither of them had been prepared to be called out on their attraction, both thinking they’d managed to conceal it at least somewhat efficiently. They sure as fuck hadn’t been prepared for Phasma telling them to get over themselves and fuck each other when they got home! When they’d arrived at the house, Hux ordered Kylo to go clean himself up and meet him in the living room after, so they could talk things out. As always, Kylo responded perfectly to orders, and didn’t even look at him before heading to his room to grab some new clothes. Hux took the opportunity to get cleaned up as well, making use of the privacy to get rid of the boner he’d been bothered by for the last hour or so. He needed to be at least somewhat clear-headed for this.

Kylo had his back against the wall of the bathroom, one hand wrapped around his length, and three fingers buried deep inside him, biting back on his moans and whimpers out of sheer force of habit as he stroked himself frantically – imagining it to be Hux’ hands on him, Hux’ voice in his ear delivering the sweetest praise, Hux’ lips on his neck making a necklace of marks on him. Fuck, he had it so bad! Every time he was anywhere near the older man, he could feel every nerve in his body just screaming at him to submit to him, and every time he did – every time Hux ordered him – it made him feel so good, so safe. His world made sense, and his head was quiet. Hux had said Kylo had no idea what he did to him – he wondered if Hux had any idea of just what _he_ did to Kylo. He came hard, vision blacking out for a moment, and he sagged against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

~*~*~

Hux fidgeted. He’d admit that to himself as he walked around the living room, straightening the cushions, re-arranging the things on the various side tables and shelves. The situation was not ideal, and he’d hoped to wait a bit longer before dealing with this – but the events of that morning, paired with Phasma’s brutal honesty, just wouldn’t allow for it. They’d only get all distracted and angsty, and for fucks sake, they were both adults – they were far too old to do the whole miserable pining thing. No, better to have this dealt with, so they could go back to the business at hand. He almost choked on his spit, cursing under his breath when Kylo came back downstairs, dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants, hung low on his hips, putting on a khaki green tank top as he went – the worn rosary he always wore bouncing against his pectorals with every move. His hair was still damp from the shower, little drops of water running from his neck and down into the fabric, darkening it in places. Holy Mother of God, the lad wasn’t gonna make this easy on him at all, was he?

“Kylo,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sit down.” He pointed to the couch and waited for Kylo to sit before joining him. “Alright, lad. This is gonna be awkward for us both no matter how we do it, so I think it’s best if we try to be as straight forward as possible, yeah?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Kylo nodded. “You wanna start, or should I?” he asked, folding his long legs under him and running a hand through his hair.

Hux pondered it for a moment, weighing his options. Kylo waited, he noted, content to let Hux decide for him what the plan would be. That settled it.

“You go first,” he said. “Otherwise I won’t be sure what you’re telling me is what you really want and not just what you think I want.”

Kylo snorted, eyebrow raised.

“You need to give me more cred, sir,” he said. “I’m submissive as hell, and fucking proud of it, but I aint no fucking pushover just ‘cause of that.”

“Sorry. It came out wrong.” Hux scratched his beard awkwardly. “I’m not great at stuff like this, to be honest.”

“Well, you were the one who wanted the Big Talk,” Kylo retorted with a smirk. He was enjoying this, the little shit! “But alright, I’ll tell it straight, then. I need… I need someone to keep me on a leash, basically. I don’t do so well on my own – never did. I need someone who can keep me in line, tell me when I can be violent and when I need to heel. And I- I _really like it_ when you give me orders, okay? It makes me feel good, and it helps make my head feel less messy when I don’t have to make all the big decisions. It makes me feel safe, you know, like I can trust you to not order me to do stuff you know I don’t wanna do. Like, the way you do it tells me you care about me, and I trust you.” He picked at the hem of his tank top. “I don’t trust people all that easily, just so you know. But I trust you. And I… I want to be good for you. I just… fuck, I don’t know how to put this. I want to be the best _me_ for you. I want you to tell me when I’m good. I want you to bring me back down when I get all messed up. I can’t always control myself, so I need someone who can. I’m not some fragile thing, okay? I like the pain, I like it rough, and bloody, and pretty much any other way you wanna give it. Only thing I can’t handle – like seriously, sir, I really mean _can’t_ – is to be shamed or humiliated and all that stuff. You can’t _ever_ do that to me, okay? If I screw up, trust me, I’ll know it myself. Tell me off like you tell everyone else off, just never… just never make it a thing, okay?” 

He paused, locking Hux’ gaze to his own. There was no hesitation in it, no insecurity. No, Kylo knew himself perfectly well, and yes, it seemed he did know exactly what he was getting himself into.

“You need me to set the rules for you,” Hux nodded. “Am I right? You need for me to take control when you can’t do it yourself. Not just in a bedroom situation, but on a day to day basis as well.” Kylo nodded. “Alright, that I can do.” He paused again. “I… I’ll tell you right now, Kylo, that I am fully aware of the fact that I tend to be an overly dominant twat sometimes. I am possessive, alright? I don’t like it when people touch what’s mine. It’s not that I’m really jealous, not in the sense most people mean. I just… I don’t trust others not to hurt them. It almost drove me mad thinking about you being out on the streets the other day when all that stuff went down. So I can be a bit overbearing, and I’m aware of that. Please tell me off if I become an arse about it, yeah?” Another nod. Not that he doubted the younger man, he just needed to know he’d said it. “Good. Now, I’ll… I’ll be really honest with you, Kylo. I have wanted you since you first walked in here three months ago, and I am scaring myself shitless thinking about accidentally pushing you too far. You’re so bloody beautiful and obedient, lad. I don’t fucking trust myself around you sometimes, ‘cause all I want to do is make you submit, and I’m scared of scaring you and of what I’d do if you did what I told you.” He swallowed. God, this was so hard to talk about! “You need me to make you come back to yourself when you’ve gone off the handle? I want that, more than anything, but I can’t promise you I’ll be able to be gentle. Watching you at _Fiddler’s_ , and then tonight… God, Kylo, I haven’t been that hard in fucking years.”

Kylo’s face turned bright red, but he smiled.

“Really?” he asked, sounding kinda shy despite the broad smile, as if he didn’t know how to react.

“You can’t honestly tell me you didn't notice it!” Hux said. “Hell, Phasma noticed, and she wasn’t even _looking_ at me!”

“I kinda thought I was fooling myself, to be honest,” Kylo mumbled, looking embarrassed. “Not a lot of people who get off on the whole blood and torture bit.”

“Well, I do. Which is something you’ll have to remember. If we’re going to do this, you _cannot_ make plans after one of these excursions, do you understand? I’m too old to run home for a shower every time you do something violent.”

“Yessir!”

They both fell silent, tension building as they let the whole situation sink in and allowed themselves to acknowledge the mutual attraction. There were more things to be talked about, yes, but for the moment, neither of them could handle it. Kylo’s head was swimming from elation, from knowing Hux really, truly wanted to give Kylo the control and order he so desperately needed – that he wanted Kylo just as bad as Kylo wanted him. Hux could hardly believe his luck. He’d been afraid that Kylo would back away from the whole thing, that he wouldn’t want what Hux wanted – that he’d just been kidding himself when he thought his feelings were reciprocated – but here they were now, with Kylo being unapologetically honest about his want and need for Hux to dominate the everliving hell out of him.

If asked later, neither of them would be able to say who moved first, and it wasn’t important. The important bit was that when their lips crashed together in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth and frantic confessions of ‘oh God I’ve wanted this forever’, it felt like home. It felt like the world making sense. It felt like belonging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just pull a cliffhanger on you? Yup. I'm so sorry. (Not really)
> 
> I wouldn't want to be interrogated by Kylo Ren. I effectively creeped myself out writing that scene, just so you know. I actually re-wrote it to tone it down some.
> 
> When you deal in weapons, it's a good idea to have a suitable business acting as a front. What could be better than an actual international transport and shipping company? So much easier!   
> Aunta Sandra's café is owned by a member of the family, but not Hux directly. Guilt by association is standard among career criminals, so they will go after anything related to the Huxes no matter how insignificant if they think it'll spark a reaction. The name Aunt Sandra's in an homage to a lovely little candy factory/shop in Belfast, I've had the pleasure of visiting. They make the most amazing fudge. Not sure they'd be flattered by this fic, though^^
> 
> Phasma & Mitaka... Well. I deafult Phasma as pansexual, so it's perfectly possible for her to be with him. And to be honest, I just want to pair her up with some sweet person who will treat her like the amazing woman that she is - and since I also love Mitaka, the choice seemed easy enough here. He respects and adores her, and he will always make sure she knows it.
> 
> Yeah, I know, I cheated you out of the smut. But, you know, kink negotiations are really important - and these two have been dancing around each other enough. Because, let's face it, as much as we all enjoy the sad face pining, it's just not viable with these two. They both know they need to get their shit together, or they'll end up shot or something because they're distracted. And besides, these things can happen pretty darn fast in real life as well. 
> 
> I still love the hell out of every comment you give, even though I suck at replying to them due to turning into a flailing blob of socially awkward happy - so do tell me what you think before you leave, yeah?  
> My tumblr's **ficlet-machine** , and you are always welcome to come over and be nerdy with me!


	6. Molotovs and Meetings

_Shit_. Every coherent thought in Kylo’s head was rapidly dissolving as he was practically drowned in the overwhelming sensation of Hux’ hands, lips, teeth, everywhere on his body. They kissed messily, no time for care or tenderness, too much hunger pent up in both of them for this to be anything other than wild bordering on the animalistic. Kylo’s tank top had gone sailing across the room a little while ago, and since then, Hux’ mouth had been firmly attached to his neck, chest, nipples, abs, hips – any fucking surface he could reach, while Kylo’s hands gripped on to his hair in a way that just couldn’t not be painful.  
The eye-patch was somewhere on the floor below them – _wait, when did they end up on the floor?_ – and Kylo couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his legs around Hux’ waist, keeping him right there on top of him, his weight at one and the same time the most arousing and comforting thing he’d ever felt. It still wasn’t enough. While half his head was screaming at him to just yield, be consumed, be marked, the other half was just as frantically trying to get enough of a grip on himself to get Hux’ stupid, infuriating, entirely fucking unnecessary t-shirt the _fuck_ off his body so he could have the skin on skin contact he so desperately needed. But he couldn’t make himself let go of that ginger hair for long enough because Holy Motherfucking Christ, Hux’ just bit down on his collarbone and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from crying out his name – loud enough for the neighbours to hear, probably – and trying to remember how to breathe.

“Jesus fuck, Kylo,” Hux panted against his skin. “Fuck, you’re _gorgeous_. Your voice… God, don’t fucking stop.”

Kylo couldn’t even remember how to form words, just whimpered, trying to get his lips back against his skin because he fucking _needed_ it, dammit! Managing somehow to dislodge his hands, he tugged helplessly at the offending fabric between them, and Hux took the cue – pulling back only just enough to damn near tear it off of himself. Holy shitfuck! If Kylo’d known he hid that body under his strict suits, he would’ve jerked the skin off his dick by now for sure! Ethan Hux didn’t have a gym in the house just for decoration, and Kylo was mesmerized by the sinewy muscles moving under his skin – gorgeously sculpted lines interrupted here and there by scar tissue – and his hands seemed to move of their own accord as they settled on his chest, nails raking across it down towards his hips, following the perfectly groomed trail of red hair disappearing under the hem of his boxers. Hux groaned, eyes falling shut as he tilted his head back, clearly revelling in the sensation, before all but diving back down to kiss the breath right out of Kylo, a hand sneaking down to caress his erection through the fabric of his pants – a moan getting caught between their mouths as he felt the wet spot rapidly forming at the tip.

“Bedroom, now,” Hux managed, somehow having enough sense left to pull them both off the floor, and dragging Kylo along. How they even made it up the stairs was a fucking mystery, as they had to stop every few feet to kiss and touch and whisper heated confessions and desires. Kylo nearly came in his pants when at one point Hux lifted him clean off the floor, to slam him against a wall, rubbing their clothed dicks against each other while sucking a hickey the size of Manhattan into the skin just below Kylo’s jaw – growling repetitions of the word ‘mine’ falling from his lips like a mantra. Oh, God, yes – _yes, he was_.

They fell onto Kylo’s bed in an ungraceful heap of tangled limbs, curses, and moans. It had been so fucking long for the both of them, no matter how badly they would’ve wanted this to be slow and sweet it just wasn’t possible – not with how sinfully fucking good it felt with every new welt, bruise, hickey, and bite-mark making it onto their skin. The need for immediate consummation, release, was burning so hot it was painful, and Kylo couldn’t help whimpering in relief when Hux managed to free both of their straining erections just enough to bring them together.

“Ohjesusfuck!” he gritted out, arching off the bed and tighter against Hux’ sweaty skin. “Shitshitshit, Ethan! N-not gonna last… long, oh _fuck_!”

At the sound of his name, Hux’ already dilated pupil seemed to completely consume the green of his iris – the hunger on his features bordering on frightening.

“Me neither,” he managed. “You’re doing… jesus, you’re doing _so_ well, love. Come if you need to, don’t… ugh, fuck, don’t hold back, okay?”

He picked up a rhythm that had Kylo keening, clawing at his skin, then the bed, the pleasure so overtaking him he couldn’t force himself to still if his life depended on it. He moved desperately against the sheets, bringing his legs back around his lover’s hips to keep him right there, keep up the friction, keep them close together. This wasn’t going to last long, not with the way the coil of heat was rapidly tightening inside him. 

“Ethan,” he whimpered. “Getting so close… God, not gonna… last…”

“Good boy,” Hux whispered, transfixed with the beauty laid out under him, so eagerly drinking in every bit of sensation he provided. “God, you’re doing so well, love. So good. Say my name again. Say my name when you come.”

The lad was just so bloody beautiful like this, so completely open and unashamedly craving every bit of sensation he was given. Hux was struggling to keep himself from coming before Kylo, wanting, no, needing the younger man to know how important it was for him to know he made him feel good – despite the both of them being so absolutely fucking starved for this that they barely even made it this far. He wasn’t gonna be one of those fuckedhead doms who just used their partner to their own advantage. Kylo was too fucking pure and precious in all of his unapologetic need to be dominated – and _fuck_ , Hux could probably live off of the sight of Kylo rapidly coming undone underneath him for the rest of his bloody days, because Jesus Bloody _Christ_ on a fucking cross, he’d never been this affected in all his life.

“Shit, E-Ethan, _don’tfuckingstop!_ ” Oh, no fucking chance of that! Not when he could see Kylo tensing up like a steel spring, all muscles and sweat and desperate shallow breaths. Just a second or two now, they were so close now, so clo-

Kylo’s phone picked that exact moment to start ringing loudly, the vibrations causing it to fall of the edge of his bedside table, startling them both out of the rhythm. It was probably important, Hux knew that, but for once in his life he wasn’t going to give a shit.

“Ignore it,” he panted, keeping Kylo’s eyes fixed to his. “Focus on me, love. Come on, you’re doing so, so good.” He placed encouraging kisses all over that beautiful face, coaxing him back into the rhythm. “That’s it, good boy.”

It would have worked, had not Hux’ phone gone off in his pocket not three seconds after Kylo’s accursed old school ring tone finally stopped. Hux cursed out loud as he buried his face against Kylo’s neck, the mood now effectively ruined for the both of them. No one would dare to call the both of them if it wasn’t really urgent, and no matter how badly they may want to ignore the world in favour of fucking each other senseless right now, it wasn’t a good enough reason. Hell, Hux had chased his employees out on the streets in the middle of the births of their children – he did not have the right to ignore family business just because he was finally getting it on with Kylo.  
He allowed himself a few seconds to catch his breath, still lying on top of Kylo, before reaching for his phone and answering.

“This had better be really _bloody_ urgent,” he growled, peering over at the clock. It was 2:36 in the morning. Well, then at least no one would question the hoarseness in his voice.

“I’m sorry sir,” the voice on the other end squeaked. It was Thanisson. “I tried Mr Ren, but, uhm, he must’ve been asleep or something, and, uhm…”

“Considering the time, I’m sure he was. Get to the point, Thanisson.”

“They’ve torched a warehouse, sir.”

“What? Which one?”

“One of the smaller ones down by Red Hook, sir.”

Shit. Shit shit _shit_.

“Don’t tell me it was the one we were shipping the AK’s from tonight?”

“It was, sir.” Thanisson sounded like he was trying very hard to be brave. “But the trucks got away without problem, they left six hours ago. But, uhm, there’s a small problem.”

“What kind of ‘small problem’?”

“One of the guards got hurt, sir. When they tried to help him, two of the others kinda… uhm, left their weapons behind. In the building.”

“They left… their weapons?” Hux’ voice was deceptively calm. “Would these weapons by any chance happen to be their SMG’s? Their _illegally imported_ SMG’s that they were ordered not to lose under any circumstances?”

“Yessir,” Thanisson whimpered. He knew that tone. “The whole building is in flames, sir. We can’t get them out. I- I think… uhm, there’s been a few explosions. I- I think the ammo’s exploded. Could be just the diesel barrels, but, uhm, I thought it’d best if- if you knew.”

“The fire department there?”

“Yessir. And, eh, the police. But they’re our guys, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” Hux said, hanging up. He looked at Kylo, who had been overhearing the entire conversation while affectionately nuzzling the one of Hux’ hands not currently occupied with holding a phone. “I’m sorry, love,” he said. “As much as it pisses me off, I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone this.”

“I know,” Kylo nodded. “Better not keep ‘em waiting over there. Fuck knows what they’ll manage to screw up if we do.”

Hux sighed and kissed him deeply, before removing himself from the bed, dragging the fixer along towards the bathroom.

“Come on, love. We need a shower and a change of clothes.”

~*~*~

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Kylo really enjoyed watching the entire mood of a place change the second Hux stepped into it. As he skilfully navigated the sleek black car towards the burning warehouse, he noticed the chaotic atmosphere hanging over the area. Fire-fighters were working frantically trying to stop the raging fire from spreading, and at the same time keep themselves safe from the flames and occasional explosions as the heat reached further and made more barrels and gas-containers overheat.  
The fucking cops were crawling all over the place like overgrown ants, and there was the usual mix of their own people and curious bystanders, and even some reporters looking for a scoop – all milling about outside the quickly drawn perimeter line. When they finally noticed the car pull up, the people immediately, and probably unconsciously, drew back, and when he got out of the car to open the door for Hux – it was like God himself had just stepped out of it. The fear and awe were practically oozing off of them, and it only intensified when people took a good look at Kylo’s massive frame and scarred face hovering just behind him. 

It didn’t really matter if people knew exactly who they were, somewhere deep in the murky parts of their brains everyone realized fairly quickly what they were – and what they were to the civilians was _dangerous_. They knew it, Kylo and Hux knew it; this was how it worked. If you needed to run around randomly threatening people and acting like a jackass, any respect you thought you’d earned was hollow, null. It just made you a slightly larger than average fish on the local reef, trying to look like a shark – and some day, if you stepped out of line, one of the _actual_ sharks would eat you alive. And Ethan Hux… well, he was a shark, and everyone here understood that – it was clear from the way he didn’t even have to do anything to demand either attention or respect. He had it simply by being himself.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea to allow them to walk over to the flimsy plastic tape marking out the perimeter in order to survey the situation. There was a look of mild distaste on Hux’ sharp features, as if this was an unfortunate but still minor inconvenience to him. Kylo knew better: Hux was fucking furious. One of the guys, no doubt the unlucky bastard who drew the shortest straw, anxiously shuffled over to them, making sure not to get too much into Hux’ space while sending frightened glances over at Kylo. Hux eventually acknowledged his presence and motioned him closer.

“Just spill it,” he said, still looking at the flaming building.

“We, uhm, we were in the break room, sir,” the guard stammered, fiddling nervously with the hem of his sleeve. “Me and Ricky and Stewie were jus’ gettin’ off shift – so we were briefin’ Pat and his boys, you know, jus’ routine stuff, and then we heard one of the windows breakin’, and at first we thought it was jus’ another stupid bird or somethin’, but then we smelled smoke, right? So Pat went to have a look, and came runnin’ back all pale like, shouting for us to get the fuck out, then boom! The fucking newbie’s the one who got hurt. Idiot went in there with a fucking fire extinguisher, thinkin’ he could put the fire out before it hit the diesel barrels. Apparently no one ever told ‘im about fumes and all that. The ambulance left a while ago, he’s probably in surgery or somethin’ now.”

Hux nodded. He’d figured that much.

“And the weapons?”

“Mine and Ricky’s SMG’s got left behind when we got newbie out. I know you said don’t lose ‘em, sir, and’ I’m sorry, but I figured a dead body’d be worse than a couple of guns. I- I take full responsibility.”

“Damn right you do,” Hux snorted. “Was there any additional ammo in there, sans the one already in the guns?”

“No, sir! As per your orders we carry the spare ammo on us, an’ never leave any in the building.”

“Good. Now get your guys and go home. I expect a full report from you and Patrick at noon tomorrow – at the latest. And newbie’s got a mum who needs to be informed. Get to it.”

“Yes, sir!”

The guard wasted no time getting the hell out of there, signalling frantically for his colleagues to come with him before the boss decided not to let them off that easy. The police officer in charge of the situation ambled over to them. He was an older guy, tough as nails, and one of the few who went crooked long before he even got out of the academy – he knew he’d be better off on the Hux family’s payroll, and he wasn’t stupid enough to let morals get in the way of his financial security. 

“You might wanna retrain your guards,” he said, glancing at Hux and then back at the scene. “I had to threaten them into shutting the fuck up about them guns in there. I don’t think any of the fuckin’ reporters heard any, but I can’t be sure about the civvies. He tell you how many?”

“Two SMG’s,” Hux said, lighting his cigar, completely disregarding the horrified looks from several of the fire-fighters. It wasn’t as if he could make it worse, now was it? “No ammo sans for what was in the mags.”

“Okay. I think we can probably brush over that in the report, what, since your guys got uniforms and all that. Don’t wanna think about the paperwork if they weren’t. That shit’d be hard as hell to explain, then.” Hux hummed in agreement. “Anyway, we’re keeping tabs on everything here. Gonna try to make sure the insurance people don’t get nothing to bitch about when they come in.”

“Appreciate it.” Hux nodded towards the fire crew. “Any problems with them?”

“Nah. They aint gonna be saying shit. All they wanna know is the general info – you know, what’s being stored there that can blow up.”

“About fifty barrels of diesel, some gasoline, and apart from that, nothing explosive. The barrels were due to be shipped day after tomorrow, and we needed the space in the other warehouse so we had to move them early.”

“Shitty luck, huh.”

“It happens.”

“Imma take your word for it. Anyway, I’ll tell the fire crew everything’s probably blown up already, and I’ll send you a copy of my report soon as I finish it.”

“You’re a good man,” Hux shook his hand. “I’ll remember it when next payday comes around.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The officer moved along, and the crowd seemed very occupied with watching in horrified fascination as the beams holding the roof up began to collapse from the heat, the groaning of metal added to the already loud noise of crackling flames.

“Solos?” Hux asked.

“Most likely,” Kylo nodded. “Probably roped some poor street kid into it for a few bucks. I mean, window breaking and then fire? Sounds like a Molotov to me. A fucking third-grader can put one of those together, it aint exactly rocket science.”

“I am getting really tired of their shit.” He turned and started walking back to the car. “Come on. We’ve got a lot of things to do. Let’s get a few hours of sleep while we still can.”

“Yessir.”

~*~*~

“So, yer t’ one steelin’ me lil’ Kylo from me, then?” Hettie had Hux fixed with the rather intimidating force of her stare. “Ye look like some posh-arse pimp. I ‘ope ye ‘aven’t gotten some eejit idea in yer ‘ead to put me lad through tha’.”

The ginger man was waiting, together with Phasma, in the small entrance hall of Kylo’s apartment building – which, of course, meant that they couldn’t get further away than maybe ten feet from Hettie’s little booth – from which she surveyed her kingdom while polluting the air with the foul-smelling smoke from her pipe. Kylo and Tank were getting his things together, carrying them out to the small van they’d acquired for the purpose – and being a man true to his word, Hux refused to let Kylo out of his sight even for this menial task, and so now he was stuck, sitting on a plastic chair, being glared at by an old Irish woman, while Phasma was trying her hardest not to laugh in the chair next to him. It had been a busy week, but when Phasma suggested that overseeing the move of Kylo’s things might be a nice change of air, this sure as fuck wasn’t what he’d expected. He still didn’t understand why the lad was so adamant about moving them himself – surely he was aware they had people to do it for them?

“I assure you, ma’am,” he huffed. “I’m not stealing him, as he is not an object but a person with a free will of his own, and I am most certainly not going to subject him to the humiliation of forced prostitution. I am many things, but not that. Not now, not ever.”

Hettie continued to stare him down, and Hux swore to himself he hadn’t felt more like a naughty schoolboy being sent to the headmaster since they moved from Ireland.

“I’ll ‘old ye to tha’, lad. Ye ‘urt me Kylo, and I’ll swear on t’ Virgin Mary, I’ll cut ye bollocks off and feed ‘em to ye.”

Hux winced. What the hell was with Irish women and making threats to men’s crotches?

“I don’t doubt it, ma’am,” he said.

“Wha’ part o’ Eire ’re ye from? Tha’ ‘orrid American accent ye got yerself makes it hard t’ tell. Didnae yer mum an da teach ye t’ speak properly, lad?”

“I’m born in Belfast, ma’am. Moved to Dublin when I was a lad, then here.”

“Ach, an Ulster lad!” Hux immediately regretting not just saying ‘Dublin’. He knew just what was coming next. “Grew up near Falls Road meself. Can’t ‘elp but wonder were such a strappin’ young lad like yerself would be hailin’ from.”

“I was raised Catholic, ma’am. Too young to remember our street, though, you’ll have to forgive me.”

Hettie hummed. She didn’t look convinced, obviously mulling it over in her head. Hux tried to keep his face schooled into a polite but relaxed expression, not wanting to give away how much she was getting on his nerves.

“As long as I dun’ ‘ave to give me lad up to some Loyalist bugger, I s’ppose I’ll live.”

Hux wanted to scream. One of the main reasons his parents relocated to the States was to get the fuck away from the whole confounded conflict, but every time he was stupid enough to mention his birthplace everyone and their bloody cousin tried to drag him back into it! Kylo had described Hettie as motherly and kind, and here he was faced with this fearsome mountain of a woman accusing him of planning to whore him out and threatening to castrate him. Though Kylo and Tank were working at impressive speed, there was just no way this was going to be anywhere near a quick enough move to keep him from getting a migraine. Time dragged on, oh so slowly, and he wished he’d brought something with him to work on.

The distinct noise of furniture bumping into random walls, paired with curses in at least three languages and the occasional chuckles eventually informed him that they were moving the last item – the worn old couch, and he had to stop himself from openly drooling when Kylo backed into view, jeans snug around his thighs and rear, and shirt tucked into one back pocket, leaving all of his ink and muscles open for everyone to see.

“Ach, lads!” Hettie laughed. “Put yer shirts on, goodness sake! Think about a poor woman’s ‘eart would ye!”

Kylo laughed while Tank blushed bright red. When they came back in, Kylo gave the old lady a massive hug, which she seemed to enjoy more than Hux frankly thought was appropriate – especially when she reached down and pinched his butt, causing him to yelp and jump away slightly, before grinning widely.

“That was last bit, Het,” he said. “Will be keeping the rent coming, though. Promise.”

“Dun’ understand why ye gotta move all them things out, but wha’ever ye say.”

“We need ‘em elsewhere, I told you,” Kylo smiled and kissed her temple. “I promise I’ll come by for tea soon. I’ll bring you some cannoli.”

Hettie gave a broad, grandmotherly kind of smile, as if she didn’t just spend an hour making threats to the health of one of New York’s top organized crime bosses. Irish women. They were a harsh breed, the lot of them. Scary too.  
Kylo’s stuff was going into a new safe house that was being set up as Hux called more people into town to deal with the Solo situation. So far, they were still on the level of petty dick measuring, but things could turn quickly in this business, and it always helped being prepared while he got the other families organized. They’d decided to keep Kylo registered on the address, though, to keep the cops and people from his past away from their doorstep. If all else failed, Hettie would probably scare them all off before they could ask too many questions anyway.

~*~*~

Finn was sweating like a cornered nun where he was sitting in a corner of _The Falcon_ , having a cup of coffee with Rey, and waiting for the arrival of Mr Solo himself. Rey had dumped the invitation more or less right on his head that morning while they were still in bed, and since he hated denying her anything, he’d agreed to the idea of inviting her foster-dad to have a coffee with them. He couldn’t very well tell her that he was scared halfway out of his mind by him and his rep – not when she so obviously adored him. Up until this point they hadn’t really been formally introduced either. Sure, Finn had been working for them for a few years now, earning a good rep for being one of the few non-Italians that managed to secure an employment with the family, and he had met Solo in passing plenty of times – but this was the first time he’d do so as Rey’s boyfriend, and for longer than a few minutes. At the moment, he was trying to balance Rey’s sunny and adoring picture of him with Poe’s clenched jaws and darkened eyes every time the name Solo was mentioned around him. He’d never gotten Poe to talk much about the older man – his gorgeous con man-boyfriend avoided the subject like the plague, and all he’d managed to surmise was that it had something to do with Solo’s wayward son, Ben. They’d been a thing, Poe and Ben, for quite a while, too – he knew that – and he knew that while Poe still considered Ben one of the people upon whom his entire world revolved, the same could not be said for Han Solo. Finn was honestly afraid to find out just why Poe disliked him so much. 

“Stop worrying,” Rey smiled as she pecked him on the cheek. “He knows we’re together, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I won’t let him eat you, I promise.”

Finn gave brave smile.

“Just nervous,” he said. “Not everyday a guy like me gets to meet the boss himself, you know. Kinda like meeting God, to be honest.”

Rey laughed. 

“He’s just a grumpy old man,” she said. “Don’t get what you’re all so scared of!”

See, this was the problem with dating the boss’ daughter, foster-daughter, niece, whatever the official title was; she was kept fairly shielded from the actual nature of the family’s dealings. She went to art school and did well for herself, helped out with some non-profits and tried to be a generally decent citizen. To the best of her knowledge, her foster parents did some illegal things, yes, but deep down they were good people. If she ever found out how wrong she’d been, it’d probably tear her apart. Luckily for Finn, he didn’t have to try and find his way across that particular minefield, because Han Solo appeared from the back and made his way over to them. Finn got to his feet and took his extended hand – making sure not to give him any reason to think Finn disrespectful.

“Finn, was it?” Solo smiled. “Good to finally meet you properly, kid.”

“An honour, sir,” Finn stammered.

“No need to be nervous, son!” the older man laughed. “I’m not gonna bite.”

All in all, the whole thing went really well. Rey handled most of the conversation, both Finn and the elder Solo struggling to keep up with her excited reports of the adventures of her week, and more than one laugh was shared. They had this easy going banter between them, little family jokes being juggled back and forth while they were trying to explain the punch-lines to Finn with mixed results. He had to admit to himself that he was having kinda fun. Maybe Mr Solo wasn’t as bad as he’d been led to believe, Finn thought. He sure seemed loving and caring enough towards Rey, so maybe this was more the real him. Anyone would get grumpy and angry from all the stress of leadership, right? Finn had probably just met him on the bad days or something. Eventually, one of the other Solos approached to inform the boss that his presence was needed elsewhere. As he got up, Mr Solo turned to Finn, almost like an afterthought.

“Oh, I nearly forgot! You hang out with Poe Dameron on occasion, right?”

“Yeah,” Finn nodded. “We’re friends.” He knew better than to disclose the exact nature of their relationship, despite Solo’s friendly behaviour.

“Great!” Solo grinned. “I got told of a business opportunity that I think he would be a great help with. Damn good con artist, that man. Top of the line, I tell you. You tell him to stop by when he’s got time, yeah? I’ll give him all the details, and a good percentage – seeing as he’s a friend of the family and all.”

“Yeah, sure!” Finn smiled. “I’ll tell him next time I see him.”

“Thanks. See you around, kid.”

He gave Rey a kiss on the cheek, and then he left. Rey smiled widely as they made their way out of the building, too. He’d promised to go see some art exhibition or other with her, in exchange for her tagging along to the Knicks game that evening. She had her arm around his, the light floral patterned skirt playing around her knees and completely mismatched against the grey t-shirt with a scene from The Shining printed across the front. She didn’t care. She never did. When he’d been scared of holding her hand in public, because he was a black kid, and she was a white girl from a known family, and people weren’t going to let them forget that no matter what, she’d gone a whole week making sure never to let go of his hand where anyone could see. She was proud, she’d told him, that she got to have a boyfriend like him – who was smart, and funny, and caring, and so completely uninterested in the whole macho bullshit everyone else seemed to pull around her – and she would take great pleasure in busting the kneecaps of anyone who dare say differently. He believed her. It helped that she didn’t mind his relationship with Poe. She even helped him dress for their dates, going on coffee dates of her own with the older man every now and then. How the fuck he’d gotten this lucky was beyond him, it really was – but here they were, walking hand in hand, happy as could be. Maybe life wasn’t as shitty as he’d been led to believe.

~*~*~

The mood in the conference room was tense, gloomy, and very, very serious. It had now been five days since the warehouse fire, and for once in his fucking lifetime Hux had actually managed to gather all of the families in one place at one time. They were in Jersey, at a private estate with good security and lots of escape routes. Better not let the fucking Italians see them gather like this, it would only make things worse. There were thirty men and women in the room, seated around a large table or standing just behind their leader’s chairs, ready to jump into action at the blink of an eye. Hux entered, flanked by Kylo, and took his seat at the end of the table. He gave them all a moment to drink in the sight of his bodyguard, knowing full well the gossip about this demon of a man he’d found himself, while he took the time to study them. Kylo stood impassively by his chair, causally leaning on the high back of the chair, brown gaze lazily studying the room.

“Good to see you all here,” Hux said eventually. All eyes immediately snapped to him. “I think everyone knows why we’re here today, but just in case someone’s a bit on the slower side, it’s because of this little Italian problem that’s popped up over the last few weeks.” He took out a cigar from the sleek metal case he carried with him, nipped the end off of it, and lit it. “I’d like to hear if anyone else has been affected, or if this is something exclusively directed at my family, before we decide what to do.”

“I was wondering why you hadn’t retaliated already,” an older man, thin as a skeleton, said as he gracefully stirred his tea. “I feared you were getting soft over there in your big manor behind all your guards.”

A collective gasp went around the room, and everyone glanced anxiously at Hux – who calmly met the older man’s gaze, taking a slow drag on his cigar. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth.

“Now, now, Tarkin,” he said. “I know you’re upset my father dearest went and got himself killed before you got to say your sweet goodbyes, but no need to be rude just because I’m not him.” He tipped some ashes off the cigar. “So, please refrain from letting your sentimental English side derail an important discussion from now on, yeah?”

Tarkin stared at him for a while, the rest of the room glancing nervously between them. Then a chuckle escaped the old man, and he raised his cup in a little toast-like motion – the tension in the room immediately lightening.

“We’ve so far not been targeted,” Tarkin said. “Nor have any of our associates.”

It turned out that no one else around the table had been subjected to any of the Italian bouts of violence, but they knew it was likely to be just a matter of time. The Irish families were well organized – to strike at only one of them was suicide; the rest would come diving down like hawks on whoever tried. But if you struck at several families at once, they too would be temporarily disorganized and weakened – it was the oldest trick in the bloody book. The Italians couldn’t possibly be so stupid that they forgot that?

Hux pinched the bridge of his nose. They’d been at it for hours now, trying to survey the damage done and trying to come up with as many possible scenarios as they could just to ensure they were covered when shit went down for real. The problem was, as it always was, that, well, the Irish families bickered like birds over crumbs, and the conversation derailed every other bloody minute – generally because of something someone’s cousin/child/sibling said about someone else’s ditto, which meant that they didn’t want to work together. He was the youngest of the bunch, and yet here he was, feeling like the single responsible adult in the room. 

“You need me to hurt them for you, sir?” Kylo asked, his voice a study in angelic innocence, but oh did it have an effect on the people in the room. “You know, encourage focus and all that?”

Hux took pride in the way he didn’t smile, even though he wanted to, and instead let his face retain its neutral expression. Of course he would never hurt one of his own, but _they_ didn’t know that – and Kylo’s reputation more than allowed for the possibility.

“Tempting as it is, Kylo,” he said. “I think we can save that for later. Right now we need them to be in good health. But do memorize their faces, just in case they fuck up later on.”

“Yessir!”

They were fucking _angels_ after that, and later in the evening they’d even managed to agree on a course of action. For now, they were going to wait with the retaliation, to focus on getting as much intel on all the Italians as they possibly could, so they could hand it over to the appropriate instances when the time came. They’d need to update their lists of know associates, lists of businesses own by or connected to the Italian families, relatives, friends, schools and companies where people worked and studied. So far, no move had been made to escalate or make it officially personal. Sure, it had been Hux’ warehouse that burned down, but they still hadn’t managed to tie it a hundred per cent to the Italians, so right now they had to ignore it. They didn’t deal in ‘maybes’, they dealt in facts. A few associates dead and injured was unfortunate, but still not enough to mandate retaliation. They weren’t uncultured swine, after all. This was business. Random acts of violence were biker behaviour; childish and undignified. They were businessmen – they calculated, planned, _waited_.

~*~*~

When they arrived home, Hux sank into one of the comfy arm-chairs in the living room, loosening his tie and removing his eye-patch – groaning in relief as he finally let himself relax a little. Kylo, looking every bit as tired as him, went over to his liquor cabinet, taking his time choosing a bottle of whiskey, before pouring a glass of it and bringing it over. He didn’t drink whiskey himself, this was just for Hux. The ginger gratefully accepted the glass, and took a sip.

“Cragganmore,” he noted, impressed. “My favourite. Thank you, Kylo, I really needed that right now.”

Oh, that smile. That smile would be the death of him. He motioned him closer, and Kylo took the hint, straddling his lap as Hux put the glass on the little side table. He let the fixer remove his tie completely and unbutton his vest along with the top three buttons of his shirt while did the same. Running his finger through that amazing black hair, he brought them close, coaxing Kylo into a deep, lazy kiss while their hands languidly roamed each other’s bodies, finding their way under shirts and slacks without either of them trying to push it further. This week had left them both too tired to have another go at anything more exciting after they’d been so rudely interrupted, but Hux really didn’t mind. He’d have Kylo any way he could, and he'd always been a sucker for these long make out sessions, something he was delighted to find out that Kylo was, too.

“You did so well today,” he murmured against his lips when they parted for air. “This whole week. I’m so proud of you, love. I promise we’ll have some time for more than this soon.”

Kylo nodded, biting his lip. He blushed from the praise, but something devilish played at the corners of his mouth.

“Was kinda hoping you’d wanna ravish me after the move, but I guess can wait a little longer.”

“That was your plan with that whole affair? To frustrate me into having you against the nearest wall?”

“Yup.”

“You little demon!” Hux laughed. “I nearly did, too. Would’ve if Phas hadn’t been around. I’d never hear the end of it if she saw that.”

“Noted. I’ll make sure to ditch Phas next time.”

“You had better. Now come here.”

He brought their mouths together again. They should probably go to bed, but neither of them would move for the Devil himself right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so... Uhm... Hi.
> 
> I was supposed to write next chapter for aSoC right now. But, uhm, then this happened. 
> 
> Another dialogue-heavy chapter, but I kinda had to be. Politics, crime, all of it involves one hell of a lot of talking.
> 
> They boys really thought they'd be getting lucky there for a second, didn't they? They forgot about Murphy's Law. 
> 
> Lesson time: If you trade in illegally imported guns, don't ever store your ammo and your guns in the same place. You can get away with having both items in storage, with enough bribes and stuff, but it might be a lot harder to get away with storing both in the same place. That's one explanation you've really gotta work on to get off the hook when the Law comes knocking. Hux is smarter than that, and he never stores anything for longer than he has to, and always keeps guns and ammo separate - during bot storing and shipping. Still, it's not a good thing for two SMG's (sub machine guns) to be found in the rubble of his building - even if he's got guards in uniform to explain their presence. Someone might still think it's fishy.
> 
> And Kylo had a good plan going there - Phasma was totally in on it, you won't convince me otherwise - but as these things do sometimes, it failed. I mean, he got Hux all hot an bothered, but kinda forgot that that guy's the world's strongest self control, and he was not going to risk his health ravishing Kylo anywhere near Hettie.  
> I'm sorry if that section felt off or wonky to you - but as with everything else, it's important for reasons of plot, so bear with it, okay?
> 
> Hux is born in Belfast, yes. His parents were Republicans, but not really all that devoted to the struggle. Falls Road is the most famous street of the Catholic/Republican streets and neighbourhoods in Belfast, while the Unionist/Loyalist Protestants have an equally famous and important street named Shankhill Road, which is a neighbouring street of Falls Road. The Republicans want the Ulster region to reunite with the rest of Ireland to form one single united republic, while the Loyalists/Unionists want Ulster to remain under British rule. It's a horridly deep rooted and infected conflict, which permeates large parts of life in Northern Ireland. So when Hettie says she's raised near Falls Road, she tells Hux which side she's on, basically. He says he's raised Catholic to indicate he's technically on the same side as her, without going into detail about his level of commitment. 
> 
> And we got to see a little teensy tiny bit of Finn! Precious cinnamon roll Finn! 
> 
> And Hux is so done with his fellow Irishmen. So done. Lucky thing he's got Kylo around to help unwind him when they get home, yeah?
> 
> I'll get to writing aSoC's next chapter now, I promise.
> 
> As always, I adore every single one of you who comment, or who comes over and hangs out with me on tumblr - so don't be shy, okay?


	7. A Leash Made of Trust

Dealing with the aftermath of the warehouse fire took another solid week of paperwork, bribes, threats, and some very complex forgery of various permits and licenses, and at the end of it, Hux was in a mood so foul Phasma banned him from the kitchen lest he’d make the fruit go bad from his acidic presence. She’d roped in Dopheld to help them out, and he had more than proven himself in Hux’ eyes – turning over every last little sentence in every document to squeeze out the necessary loop holes to cover for them. For a man so incredibly gentle and humble, he was delightfully free of scruples – and though he was obviously quite intimidated by both Hux and Kylo, he got the job done with no questions asked, and no hesitation. It had helped them greatly, because they really couldn’t afford to come under too close a scrutiny from anyone right now; having at least half of the NYPD on their payroll did little to protect them from the attention of more annoying sources, like the feds and the CIA. Last thing they needed now was a RICO charge looming over them because of a minor fuck up.

Hux had given Kylo command of the people out on the field, and the fixer had proven himself very capable of handling the responsibility. He had obviously put himself in enough respect among the crews to have them follow his orders almost as well as they did with Hux’. And, of course, having Tank as his impromptu second in command did help quite a bit too. The only complaint he had was that Hux still wouldn’t let him get out there and survey the situation for himself, which had lead to him becoming increasingly restless and antsy. He just wasn’t the fucking type to loom behind a desk and pull the strings; the violent streak, the attack dog, in him needed to be out there and follow the trails of blood, to find the answers for himself. He needed to _do_ things, not just tell others to. The whole thing could easily have gone out of control if they hadn’t established their rules already.  
When Kylo got too testy due to his restlessness, Hux pulled his mental leash tight, giving short and clear orders that would keep Kylo’s mind stimulated without agitating him further or accidentally patronizing him by being too menial. The more fangs Kylo bared, the harder Hux gripped his leash, never yielding an inch, and Kylo relished it – and it worked wonders. At the end of each day, the fixer got rewarded with Hux’ undivided attention for a few hours – being praised and pampered while tucked safely into the ginger’s chest or draped across his lap. Hux had decided to be as much of a gentleman as he could, until they were both settled in their new relationship, so they still slept in separate rooms – but it was becoming increasingly difficult for them both to return to their own at night.

Phasma was the epitome of professionalism, as always. Her position in the legit businesses they operated together with her relatively unknown position in their not so legit ones allowed her a bit more leeway than the others. She still carried two different guns about her person at any time, and at least one knife in her handbag and/or shoe, just in case. Kylo made sure she never left the house without at least two bodyguards, and that her schedule, routes, and other necessary information was continuously updated and correct – to ensure nothing happened while she was out. She went all over the city, talking, listening, bargaining, pressuring, threatening, and making a good enough impression on the right people to ensure that the believed that what had happened at the warehouse was nothing more than an unfortunate act of random vandalism. The Hux family being a mafia family? Certainly not! While it was regrettably true that her uncle had had some very unfortunate connections, the family was as respectable and law abiding as any other – and any suggestions otherwise were a downright insult to all of their hard work bringing the family out of it. 

The Tarkins had been targeted as well, they’d learned in the past few days. A butcher’s shop, owned by a cousin of Tarkin himself, had been vandalized, and a jewellery shop had been broken into and smashed more or less to pieces. Combined with a few hostile encounters with members of Italian families, it was fairly obvious what was happening. No one in their right mind would rob that jeweller’s – there wasn’t a crook in New York who didn’t know it belonged to the Irish, and the butcher’s shop… well, same there, because only a really special kind of idiot would rob Tarkin’s direct family. A few of the others were beginning to report some incidents as well, though not on the same scale. Hardly surprising; the Hux family and the Tarkins were the two biggest players on the Irish organized crime field – they would always be targeted before the others.

There was a storm brewing, no doubt of that. For now, all they could do was wait and see where lightning would strike first.

~*~*~

Right now, Hux was pacing the living-room floor, one hand running through his short beard, the fingers on the other restlessly tapping against his hipbone. Phasma had vacated the premises half an hour earlier, and Hux had sent everyone that wasn’t Kylo away, too – much to the relief of, well, everyone. As much as the family respected and loved their leader, he was nothing short of fucking terrifying when he was like this; green eye narrowed and venomous, jaw clenched, and temper shorter than a stick of dynamite without a fuse. He was still as focused and efficient as ever; he just wasn’t very pleasant to be around when something didn’t work out like he wanted it to.  
Kylo, being the only one who didn’t seem all that frazzled by his testiness, had watched him all day as he went about his own business. He seemed calmer when Kylo was around, and when he could order him around – funny, it seemed to ground them both to an equal degree to have that tension between them. It fascinated him like nothing he’d ever seen how fucking fast Hux’ mind worked through new tasks, new bits of information, changes in plans, little obstacles. Criminal mastermind, indeed – he just adapted to every new situation, his orders never ceasing to leave his mouth as anything less than clear, concise, confident, ready to be set in motion right away. 

But at the moment, it was clear as day to him, from where Hux had told him to curl up on the couch, that the ginger was going a little overboard. He was obviously really tired, but hell-bent on refusing himself to relax and rest. That seemed to be a thing he did; letting his mind jump on a speeding train of thoughts and ‘what if’s until he drove himself up the walls. Sexy as it was, it wasn’t fucking healthy – Kylo knew that better than most. He wanted to help, and he had an idea that might work, but first he had to get Hux to stop that bloody pacing before he wore the rug out. Knowing that the ginger had an uncanny sense for what he was doing at any given moment when they were in the same room, he sat up straighter on the couch, straightening his legs just a little bit – and there it was, just a tiny second of a pause in Hux’s steps. He was waiting to see if Kylo was going to disobey. He wasn’t, but how could Hux know that?

“Sir,” he said. “Permission to leave the couch?”

Hux stopped and looked at him, giving a short nod.

“Of course,” he said. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, sir,” Kylo smiled as he stood up. “But if I may, sir, I’d like to help you relax a little, and I can’t do that from the couch.”

Hux studied him for a moment, then smiled as he walked over to kiss him, running a hand gently along his jawline.

“I’d like that,” he said. “Thank you very much, love. Tell me what it is you want to do.”

“I’m very good at giving massages, sir. Proper massages. You’ve been tense all day, and I think it would help.” He bit his lip, reminding himself that his leash was short today, even if Hux was open to suggestions. “May I be direct, sir?”

“Go ahead,” Hux nodded.

“I’d like to give you a blow job, too. I’ve- uhm, I’ve been wanting to do that. For, uhm, a while now. And it helps with the relaxing. May I?”

Hux’ eyebrows shot straight up, but the smile broadened.

“I would like that very much, love.” He kissed Kylo on the forehead. 

“I, uhm, I don’t swallow, though. Can’t.”

“I would never force you to, sweetheart, I promise. And you did right to tell me beforehand. Now, I assume you need me to lie down for this, yeah?” Kylo nodded. “Go change into your sleep-wear. I want you to be waiting for me on the recliner by my bed when I get there. You have ten minutes, while I go turn the lights off.”

Kylo nodded and headed straight for his room. He made it in eight minutes, and was rather proud of himself as he did what he was told. He was in his boxers and an old band t-shirt, and he’d brought with him three different massage oils from his collection – wanting to make sure Hux approved of the scent before it went on his body. While he waited, he looked around the room, enjoying the feeling of being surrounded by Hux’ things. The room smelled faintly of the really nice perfume he always wore, and it made Kylo feel relaxed and comfortable. Eventually, Hux arrived, toeing off his shoes by the door before coming to stand before Kylo.

“Good boy,” he smiled, running a hand through Kylo’s hair. “Take that shirt off, then undress me.”

Kylo wasted no time following the order, taking time to carefully remove every garment and folding it before putting it down at one end of the recliner. He hesitated at Hux’ boxers for a moment, looking up for permission before receiving a nod and peeling them off as well. Just seeing him like this was a reward in itself; he was completely taken with the lean body, the sinewy muscles, scars and freckles that adorned it. The man was a fucking piece of art, and Kylo was so fucking lucky to be allowed to touch it every day.  
After letting Hux pick out his oil of choice, and receiving good praise and a deep kiss for being so thoughtful, they settled on a towel on top of the bed and Kylo got to work. This was a skill he was very proud of, though he rarely used it, and it felt good to be able to use it to make Hux feel better. He carefully warmed up the muscles – and jesus fuck, was he right when he said Hux was tense! – before methodically working over not only Hux’ back but also his neck, arms and legs, accompanied only by the sound of the occasional moan, curse and sharp intake of breath. There was a lot of tension to work out, but he did as much as he could for the time being – hoping he’d be allowed to do this regularly. Once he’d finished, he settled on his knees next to Hux, waiting for him to come back to himself enough to tell him what he thought.

“ _You_ ,” Hux panted. “Are absolutely amazing. Thank you so much, love. You did such a good job.” He managed to sit up, and pulled Kylo in for a deep, slow kiss. “You beautiful, amazing man,” he murmured against his lips. “You made me feel so good. So, _so_ good.” He pulled back a little. “Now, get on the floor for me, love. I prefer to sit up for this part.”

Kylo settled on his knees between Hux’ legs, the ginger nodding his permission to touch him, and took a second to admire the sight in front of him. Hux was casually leaned back on one hand, the other playing with Kylo’s hair, his cock was fully erect and standing out proudly from the meticulously groomed red hair around it. Hux was a good size, thankfully not too big, but still well above average, and probably the most perfect thing Kylo had ever seen. And he had seen a fair few over the years. Sure, he may be a bit biased, but still.  
Hux didn’t seem to be in any sort of rush, letting Kylo look and touch at his own pace, content to watch him – a smile playing at the corners of his mouth at the obvious adoration he was receiving. His eyes fell shut, and a loud groan escaped him as Kylo took him into his mouth, letting his tongue circle the tip before moving on to do some complicated and incredibly pleasurable things along the underside of his shaft while Kylo took him in as much as he could manage. As he found a pace to work with, alternating between deep, intense sucking and soft, gentle licks and kisses, Hux’ grip on his hair took on a steel firmness, and to Kylo’s absolute joy, he didn’t bother holding back on neither praise nor sound. 

Hux found his ability to form coherent thoughts shattering with every little move of that incredible, divine, sinfully talented mouth on him. Oh, Jesus bloody fuck, the lad could’ve warned him before of how completely mind-blowingly skilled he was at this! He was glad he wasn’t the type to pull the whole calm, collected, aloof dom-bit, because he wouldn’t have been able to keep that act up for a minute once Kylo got started – and the response to every word he said, every groan he let out was far, far, too rewarding to waste on trying to keep up some sort of expectation. Kylo wanted and needed praise, and Hux loved giving it – and _holy fucking hell_ , did Kylo deserve it right now! He could feel himself sweating, the heat pooling below his navel becoming rapidly more intense, spreading out into his body, his pulse racing, breath laboured, every joint in his body locked in place form the overwhelming sensation. _Shit_ , he wasn’t gonna last at all, was he?

“Kylo,” he managed. “Let go, love. Gonna…. Shit, gonna come-!”

Kylo only just managed to pull off before Hux’ climax seized him, covering Kylo’s face and chest in thick white spurts – some of it getting in his hair and dotting his long black eyelashes – and the lad fucking _let_ him. Falling back on his elbows, breathing heavily, he looked at Kylo with a mix of fascination and adoration. He was a mess, a really beautiful _fucking mess_ , and still he retained every ounce of dignity – unabashedly enjoying the feeling of the sticky substance making its way across his body.

“Jesus _fuck_ , lad,” Hux chuckled tiredly. “You’re gonna be the death of me with that mouth of yours. You did so well, sweetheart. You are incredible, you make me feel _so_ good.” Kylo beamed with pride, dark eyes meeting his as a pink tongue darted out to lick up some come from his lips. “Go wash yourself off, love,” Hux said, sitting up and kissing his hair, pointing him toward the bathroom. “Then take your clothes off and come back to bed. You’re sleeping here tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll give you a really nice reward, I promise.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kylo smiled before getting to his feet. The sooner he got in bed, the sooner Hux would pull him close and kiss him to sleep. He was turning into such a fucking _sap_ for this man, he noted to himself as he was washing his body clean from any and all traces of come. Such a complete fucking sap, and he regretted _nothing_.

~*~*~

The following day, another meeting with the Irish families, this time in a non-descript office building in the city, led to the conclusion that the whole Solo problem was a fight for territory. It happened occasionally; one family would tire of the money flowing in another direction and try to push another off the board so they could have the bigger share of the business – usually done by means of the same type of murder-and-destruction pattern they were already witnessing. The Hux family and their fellow Irishmen were currently one of the biggest players on the field of organized crime – not just in New York, but in the States overall – so for them to be targeted made perfect sense. That it was the Solos who were making the most aggressive moves wasn’t all that surprising – they had been top players themselves for years, until some unfortunate events involving government snitches and shitty luck had knocked them down a few pinholes on the business ladder. Apparently, they deemed it time to climb back up, and they would do so at the Huxes’ expense. Things would probably still escalate for a while, and they knew they’d be forced to launch some serious retaliation against them soon, but at least it wasn’t personal. It would be bloody, yes. But as long as it was kept on a strictly business related level, they would most likely be able to get through it with minimal casualties and minimal attention from the general public.

They mapped out some key members of the Italian families as well as some targets with high priority, and some back up plans in case something changed. Sure, they could probably wait for a while still, but it was always a difficult balance between showing superiority by not rising to the bait at the slightest provocation, but not coming off as cowards too afraid to act when pushed. At this point, the other families in the area were bound to have not only noticed, but also begun to speculate about the brewing feud, and everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before some of them decided to join in on the fun. They needed to get a grip on this whole fucking mess before it went out of control, preferably before the Russian families picked up the scent of conflict – peace was a really fucking fragile thing in this world, and Hux knew better to trust it, even after their thorough negotiations a few years back. Money was money, and at the end of the day, money was the thing that everything revolved around.

They agreed on the necessary precautions, Hux gave the all clear to very discreetly try to move their immediate families away from the area. A lot of the kids were going on summer holiday now, so it wouldn’t cause too much suspicion if they wanted to go abroad or to their vacation homes for a while. As for the ones who couldn’t leave town, now was a good time to remind them about the rules for these occasions: no walking anywhere, don’t go anywhere alone, always tell the family where you’re going, with who, when you will be back. Don’t talk to people you don’t know. Stay in crowded and well-lit areas. Don’t take any chances, and keep your family’s numbers on fucking speed dial. Don’t talk to the cops, unless you’re one hundred per cent sure they’re one of ours. And if you get caught – don’t. Ever. Fucking. _Rat_. 

Overall it was a highly successful meeting, and Hux was incredibly pleased as they made their way to the car. About fucking time those Solo shitheads got a reminder of just whom it was they were trying to screw over. He was a bit concerned, however, because it had become pretty clear to him that he needed Kylo back out on the field again. The lad did a commendable job directing their forces from the office, but several of the others had remarked that it did come off a bit strange that he had that kind of man in his family, with that amazing fucking skill set, and he used him as some sort of glorified secretary. What the fuck was up with all of that? What, was he sick or something? They were right, of course, Hux knew that – he wasn’t stupid. He knew it was ridiculous to under-utilize Kylo’s abilities, but he couldn’t very well tell them it had very little to do with his abilities and more to do with the fact that he was scared shitless at the thought of something happening to him. Kylo, having been given permission to speak his mind as he saw fit, had agreed with them – with a very respectful tone, of course – and in the end Hux had to let him. Sometimes he fucking hated both logic and his own overprotective side. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside. That was a problem for tomorrow.

Right now, all he wanted was to go home, strip Kylo down to his underwear, and wrap him in yard after yard of his favourite red hemp-ropes. That morning, he’d given Kylo a choice between a spending spree at the art-supply shop of his choice, a dinner at whatever restaurant he wanted, or a night of pampering by means of a home cooked dinner, a warm bath and a shibari session. Kylo wasn’t good with choices, he’d realized – at least not when it came to rewards. He just didn’t seem to think he was worth spending money on, and Hux had made a mental note to fix that. But he did react very positively to the rope session, saying he’d always wanted to try it, but never got around to it. That had settled it, and Hux had bribed Phasma into making some preparations in terms of dinner and acquiring a very specific bath bomb he’d found out that Kylo liked. She’d called him a sugar daddy, and well, maybe she wasn’t that far off with that. He didn’t care; pampering Kylo was quickly becoming his new favourite hobby, and hell, it wasn’t as if he got nothing out of it. These rewards of his paled in comparison to what the lad did for him. The least he could do was to show some goddamned appreciation.

~*~*~

Kylo could seriously not believe that he hadn’t tried this sooner. He was currently enveloped in an intricate criss-cross pattern of ropes, making him more or less unable to move more than the occasional wiggle, and he was being gently cradled in Hux’ arms on a soft blanket on the floor. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since they started, but he couldn’t bring himself to care if he tried. Everything was calm, like he was floating slightly outside his own head, and he felt safe, secure. He was vaguely aware of some tears running down his cheeks and being carefully wiped away, of hands caressing his head and body, fingers running through his hair. Hux’ body against his was warm, an anchor for him to hold on to, helping him let go, let himself space. God, it had been so long since he got to do that. Maybe that was what the tears were; relief that someone could bring him there and keep him safe while he floated in his own little world.  
Eventually, Hux’ lips against his temple brought him back to reality, and it was like every last bit of tension in him had dissipated. He watched lazily as the ginger began carefully undoing the complicated binding, then strong, sinewy arms were cradling him again for a moment before he was picked up bridal style and gently tucked in under the covers of Hux’ huge bed. Hux watched over him, murmuring soothing words and placing soft kisses where he could reach until Kylo felt fully present again. The ginger was still watching over him when he drifted off to sleep. If this was a small reward to Hux, Kylo couldn’t wait to find out what a big reward meant.

~*~*~

The thing that Hollywood never told people about, was the part where no one ever gets any warning when bad shit is about to happen to them. There were never any signs, unless you looked really fucking carefully – and made yourself come off as completely paranoid while doing it – and a lot of the time even the people who sold you out never even had a clue. Suddenly one day, you’d have a moment of ‘oh, shit’, and that was that. That’s how you ended up dead in an alleyway in a mocked robbery, or on a missing person poster, or in a plastic bag at the bottom of the ocean. That was the reality they were all well aware of but consistently refused to acknowledge. 

Poe knew he’d been doing a very delicate balancing act, hanging out with both Finn and Kylo without involving either of their families in the hopes that all of them could get away with it. As the door to Han Solo’s office closed behind him, Poe knew he’d been dead wrong. So this was it, then. This was how it was going to end for him after all these years. This was the moment he said a last prayer, putting on a brave face with nothing behind it to show, hoping they’d at least make it quick. Hoping someone would at least tell his family he wasn’t coming home no more. Hoping Finn never found out just how it happened. Hoping they’d at least tell him why. Hoping there’d be enough of him left for his family to bury.

But he knew hope was useless. He wasn’t getting out of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I'm so sorry about the delay in updates! I was not feeling too great about this chapter due to some circumstances regarding some feedback on previous chapters. The issue has since been resolved, but I kind of lost my confidence for a while.
> 
> Hux being a caring and soft dom is everything to me right now, so yeah. It's just so bloody important to me personally to combat these very damaging dom/sub relationships and tropes that tend to flood every fandom. There is just so much more to it than what is usually written, and most of it is so unhealthy it scares me. So, healthy D/S relationship kylux is my jam.
> 
> For some reason, I find writing blow jobs a lot more difficult than full on sex scenes. I don't know why, but uhm, sorry if it came out weird.  
> Also, shibari - because shibari. Because Hux just seems the perfect type to be able to do a really good job with it.
> 
> A note for the upcoming chapters: you might wanna pay very close attention to the trigger warnings.
> 
> And as always, if you wanna come chat with me about the fic, kylux, the world, or anything else - you are more than welcome to drop me a message over on tumblr! :)


	8. It's All About Sending a Message

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings for:** mentions of injury, mentions of possible character death, graphic descriptions of knife play + blood play, mentions of surgical procedures and intensive care related topics, graphic portrayal of self hatred and violent tendencies, graphic description of rough d/s session, violence.
> 
> If any of the above topics are triggering or squicky to you I strictly advice you to skip this chapter. Your mental health is more important than a fic, okay, lovelies?
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter title is a quote from the Joker in Batman - The Dark Knight: "It's not about the money - it's about sending a message: everything burns".

It felt fucking great to be back out on the field, Kylo thought to himself as Tank manoeuvred the car through the busy streets while one of their guys was busy going over the latest tip offs from the local snoops and snitches. That was a thing that might still take time to get used to, though; Kylo rode in the back seat now. That morning, Hux had informed him that from now on two things were going to be the rule; one, Kylo was not going out that door in anything less than a suit of equal quality and level of style as what Hux usually wore, and two, Kylo was henceforth going out there as Hux’ right-hand man – that meant that, in practice, Kylo was basically second in command of the family. He’d been completely gobsmacked by randomly being bestowed that honour, and had promptly choked on his coffee. He hadn’t really thought about his official position within the family since Hux employed him. Tank had said from the beginning that they were all supposed to be versatile, so they could jump in wherever they were needed at that moment. Officially he was a bodyguard and interrogator, and he had completely forgotten about the part where Hux had told him he needed a right-hand man. The ginger himself hadn’t forgotten, of course – he never forgot a fucking thing, that man – and that morning he had calmly reminded Kylo of his status, and told him to ‘go out and play with the children’ – to remind them that Hux wasn’t the only one they answered to.

He wasn’t worried about living up to the expectation: he’d been raised at top of the food chain, and he knew the drill. He knew what the other members of the family and the close associates expected to see from him in terms of behaviour and competence, and that would hardly be a problem. It would just take some getting used to, this whole not having to worry about what the higher-ups thought of him gig – because now he was the fucking higher-up. Tank had kept his professional manner until they were out of sight of the house, at which point he’d let out a roaring laughter, nearly causing both Kylo and the other guy to jump out of their respective windows, congratulating Kylo on having become a proper mob boss, informing him cheerfully that he’d nearly pissed himself seeing him come outside in that sharp suit and with that ‘new business face’ he’d gotten himself. Kylo had no idea what the fuck he meant by that, but he rolled with it, as he usually did, assuring his friend that he was the same Kylo – he’d just gotten saddled with more paperwork and a stricter dress-code.

Today’s mission was mainly just an inspection round paired with checking some intel they’d gotten hold of the day before about suspicious activities among the Italians. With Hux stuck in various video-conferences, pretending to be a decent, law abiding citizen in front of some people from _First Order Transport_ ’s offices in Western Europe and Australia, and planning upcoming business deals with decidedly more shady people from other parts of the world – Kylo had the run of the family for the day and full permission to make the decisions he deemed necessary. Hux knew he wouldn’t go do something major without Hux there in person, but in their business decisions had a tendency to show up and demand attention at the drop of a hat. 

Their first stop was the house of the surviving victim of the knife attack weeks earlier. He’d been out of the hospital for a while, but still hadn’t been in any condition to answer any questions or even receive visitors until now. With his kids off to visit relatives in Ireland, and his wife at work, he’d agreed to let them come over. Kylo knew full well how scary the lower-ranking members thought it was to have the big shots come visit – and he knew many of them were involved in the life much against the wishes of the rest of their families, making meeting like this a lot harder. They weren’t complete assholes; they did try to avoid upsetting spouses and children if they could. Hell, _Leia_ hadn’t approved of people coming to their house – and she was the fucking boss’ wife! If she, with all the protection they had, had been uncomfortable with visitors, then how hard mustn’t it be for the low-ranked families who had no protection and everything to lose?  
The house wasn’t much, a little box-shaped thing, in some godforsaken little corner of Brooklyn, but it had a very neat and well-kept front yard, and it looked pretty homely. Tank pulled up in front of it, turning the engine off, and looking back at Kylo.

“You ready to roll, sir?” he asked, cheekily. “Your first house call. This is a big day.”

Kylo chuckled slightly and shook his head.

“I’ve done house calls before,” he said. “When I survive my first business meeting, then we can call it a big day.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Aight, guys, you know the drill. Aint no way we’re gonna come off as anythin’ but scary mobster guys, so let’s not even try.”

“I get to do the scary bodyguard gig?” Tank looked hopeful. For some reason, Tank had never realized that he always did the scary bodyguard gig as far as everyone else was concerned. The man didn’t even have to try, for fuck’s sake. He was the living dictionary definition of it.

“You get to do the scary bodyguard gig,” Kylo promised, rolling his eyes. “You,” he said to the other guy, whose name he hadn’t even managed to catch, due to the poor fucker’s very severe tendency towards mumbling. “You got the flowers for the wife? Good. Let’s go.”

He discreetly glanced around, and of course they had plenty of eyes on them – both from people happening to be out in their little yards, the people walking down the street, and from behind various curtains and hedges. Tank got out, effectively scaring half the street, as they took in the sheer size of him, before doing the standard surveying of the situation and walking around to let Kylo out of the car as well. Mumble Guy knew his place and brought up the rear as Kylo strolled up the little walkway, letting people get a good look at the suit, the scar, the two scary dudes next to him, before ringing the doorbell. It should show their friendly intentions well enough; had they been here for more sinister shit, they wouldn’t have let themselves be seen at all, let alone like this. Part of the job was about knowing the way to work around the bystanders to make sure they got the right kind of attention when they needed it, and none at all when they needed that.

It took a little while for the poor man to open the door for them, and he looked like he wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved or terrified that it was Kylo and not Hux on his doorstep. 

“Mornin’, Andy,” Kylo greeted, shaking his hand. “May we come in?”

“O-of course, Mr Ren,” the other guy, Andy, said and allowed them into the small hallway before leading them to the kitchen. “I hope you’re okay with sitting in the kitchen,” he said nervously. “I still struggle some getting in and out of the couch. Easier to sit on an actual chair.”

“No problems at all,” Kylo assured him. “We don’t wanna make it worse. The boss sends his best wishes.” He gestured for Mumble Guy to help him get the bouquet into a vase – the poor sod moved like he was made of shitty spare parts! “How are you feeling?”

Andy slowly got himself seated on one of the chairs.

“Better, thank you Mr Ren,” he nodded. “Gonna need to keep the physical therapy up for a while, and I’ll probably never be able to do everything the way I used to again, but I’m getting there.” He lit a cigarette. “Please thank Mr Hux from me. You know, for the medical bills and all that. And for looking after my wife and kids while I was in the hospital. Means the world.”

“It’s what family does,” Kylo said with a shrug. “Good to see you recovering. That was some nasty shit.” Taking a cigarette form the pack offered, and lighting it with his own worn old zippo, he leaned back a bit. “I know this might be hard on you and all, but I’m gonna need you to tell me everything you remember about what happened. Especially if the said anything to you about why they did it.”

Andy sighed.

“I’ve been tryin’ to remember as much of it as I can, but… They came outta nowhere when me and-… m-me and Eric were jus’ about to leave that diner. I- I thought they were tryin’ to, you know, get back at us for some business shite. You know, we scare ‘em or one of their mates, and then they try to get back at us type of thing. But… now when I’ve been told about all the other stuff, I knew it couldn’t have been that. My guess is that it was somethin’ to do with territory. They said somethin’ along the lines of ‘getting you fuckers outta town’. Like I said, first I thought it was me and Eric they meant – you know, like they do sometimes when they don’t understand how shit works – but now I think they meant the family. Like, they want to run us all out of New York and take over. But- but that’s all I know. I was kinda busy being stabbed, and all.” 

“What did you tell the police?” That was the real question. The important question. After all, they already knew it was about territory – right now, it was just a matter of tying up loose ends, intel wise, and making sure Andy hadn’t ratted on them.

“I didn’t tell ‘em nothing,” Andy said, straightening up and looking Kylo in the eyes. He was made of stronger stuff than he thought, this one, and Kylo was impressed. “I’m not a bloody rat. They asked me why those fuckers did this – I told them they’d have to ask the fuckers themselves, ‘cause me an’ Eric, we were just havin’ a meal.”

Kylo nodded, and looked over at Tank. The other man gave a small nod back; Andy didn’t seem to be lying to them. Good.

“Thanks, Andy,” he said, putting the cigarette out. “That’s all we needed to know.” He got up, Tank and Mumble Guy quickly following suit. “If I were you, I’d grab my wife and get my ass outta town for a while. Things are gonna get really fucking bloody around here soon. You aint in any condition to get involved, but we can’t guarantee they won’t come for you again, regardless.”

“You know, Cork is really lovely this time a year,” Andy said as he got up to see them out. “I think some change of air could do me good.”

As they got back in the car, they all gave a small sigh of relief. No one really wanted to be the one to find out someone ratted – especially not when they’d been family for years, like Andy had. Shooting a friend in the face without feeling at least a little bad about it – rat or not – took one cold fucking heart.

~*~*~

Hux ended the call, tossing his cell-phone on the desk with a pleased sigh – closing his eyes and leaning back in the chair. Their next shipment of hardware would be coming in the following night, at one in the morning, and it was going to be a big one. Given the mess they were in right now, Hux knew not all suppliers were keen on sending shipments their way – in case of legal trouble. But they were in dire need of those weapons, and several other Irish families had placed orders as well to ensure they were properly armed and ready to handle any shit that might go down over the coming weeks – and even though he hadn’t admitted it to anyone, Hux had been a bit worried. But his old friend Demyan once again proved why he was worth every cent Hux paid him. The Russian had listened to him when he explained the situation, and promptly offered some extra safety measures from his end to make sure the Huxes wouldn’t be standing there without guns when shit hit the fan – no extra charge. The Hux family had helped his crew out when they needed it, so it would be a sin not to return the favour.

Noticing the time, Hux decided to break for lunch – having been stuck on the phone or on Skype since fuck knew when that morning. He wished Kylo had been home for lunch, but he knew the younger man really needed to be out there and do things right now, after so long of being glued to Hux’ hip. Kylo could handle the job, he had no doubts about that, and knowing he had Tank with him made Hux feel relatively calm about it all. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself. In reality, he couldn’t stop himself from just waiting for the call saying something had happened, and he was annoying the ever-living fuck out of himself doing it.

Making his way down to the kitchen, to where some members of the family were in the middle of cooking lunch for what looked like at least a platoon worth of people, he only just got himself seated by the large dining room table, when a commotion could be heard from outside; tyres screeching, guards shouting, the sound of car doors slamming. His first thought was, unsurprisingly, a panicked ‘Kylo!’, and before he could stop himself he was hurrying towards the door – the security staff scrambling to follow.  
As they made it out into the yard, he saw the guards dragging a blood-stained blanket, quite obviously containing a body, into safety before slamming the front gates shut.

_Oh God_ , he prayed silently, desperately. _Don’t let it be Kylo. Please, don’t let it fucking be Kylo_.

As he approached the lump on the ground, the guards managed to find a way to unroll it just enough to get a look at who was inside. Hux held his breath, feeling like he might just be sick if it was that beautiful face he’d kissed goodbye only that morning. A gasp went through the small crowd as the face of the person came into view.

It wasn’t Kylo. But, Hux realized, it was only marginally less bad. Inside the blanket was the unconscious, beaten and bloody, and possibly dead, body of Poe Dameron – Kylo’s best friend, and Tank’s cousin. Inside the blanket was a declaration of war. And it was _personal_.

Everyone were looking at him, holding their breaths and waiting for his reaction. He took a moment to collect himself, breathing slowly, allowing himself a few seconds of silence, before straightening his back and looking at his family.

“Check for a pulse,” he barked. “If he’s alive he’ll need to go to the fuckin’ hospital! If he’s dead we’re in deep bloody shite if someone saw ‘em dump him here. I’ll call Tank and Kylo, the rest of you get on yer bloody phones and start warnin’ everyone. This whole fuckin’ situation just went to hell.”

“H-he’s alive, boss,” one of the guards informed him. “I’m calling the ambulance, if- if you’re sure.”

“Do it! That’s Kylo and Tank’s family! You wanna look the two of them in the eye an’ tell ‘em you let their family die, huh?”

The man practically tore his pocket apart getting his phone out to dial 911.

“Uhm, boss,” one of the other men called. He was carefully examining Poe’s body while another was trying to find the sources of all the blood. “There’s something here.” 

He managed to extract the small object, which turned out to be a playing card, the jack of spades. Something was scrawled in black marker pen on the back of it, but the card was so bloody they could barely make out the letters. Hux took it – held it by a corner with a tissue between his skin and the paper – and once he realized what it said, he went about twenty shades of greenish pale.

One word: _traitor_.

~*~*~

There wasn’t a power in the world that could have kept either Tank or Kylo away from the hospital after they’d gotten the news, and Hux refused to leave Kylo on his own during something like this, and now he found himself sitting in a waiting room somewhere near where a lesser army of surgeons and whatnot were trying to save Poe’s life. They’d been at it for five hours already, the air almost vibrating with the tension. Tank sat to one end, surrounded by his family – some crying, other trying to comfort each other in their native Spanish. Funny, he never realized Tank’s family was so big. He’d always sort of imagined Tank as having popped into existence in all his six-foot-eight, two-hundred-and-twenty pounds muscled glory. Of course, he’d known about Poe – they’d met many times over the years – but somehow it still struck him as odd to realize Tank had a mother. And sisters. Nieces and nephews. Cousins other than Poe. But what was odd, though – really fucking odd – was that none of them had blamed him yet. He’d fully expected to have to defend himself against a horde of angry relatives, to try and offer some meagre apology for what had happened. But they had barely even noticed his existence so far. He supposed he should be glad for it – he’d done his fair share of trying to offer some sort of pathetic apology to people who’d just lost someone they loved. It never did sit right with him.

He looked over at Kylo, who had been restlessly pacing back and forth across the waiting room for the past half hour. His eyes were red and glassy with unshed tears, and his jaw was set hard, like he was biting back on either a scream or sobs. Every now and then he would stop, close his eyes and take a series of deep breaths while running his hands through his hair. Then he would be back to pacing again. His entire being screamed ‘pain’, and Hux watched with growing worry how that strange, empty and dark look started to take over his face, that eerie predatory stalk creeping into his gait – he was struggling to keep himself from having a meltdown. Ideally, Hux would order him to get in the car right that minute and take him home – but he also knew that there was a time and a place, and even though he had no doubt Kylo would obey, he also knew he would never forgive him if Poe died and he wasn’t there to say goodbye. While pacing, it had become clear quickly that Kylo didn’t want anyone to touch him; shying away from it like a beaten dog. Only when he sat down would he let Hux put his arm around him and do what he could to comfort him. The only thing Hux could do for now was trust in Kylo’s ability to keep himself in check until they got some sort of news - any kind of news.

It took another two hours before that news came. It seemed like time slowed down when a doctor appeared in the hallway, looking tired as shit, and still wearing that stupid little hat over his hair. It was impossible to tell whether he came bearing positive or negative information for them – his face was a neutral mask, which, Hux guessed was a necessity in this job. Everyone held their breath as he pulled a chair over so he could face them all at the same time. Kylo stood as still as a marble statue, eyes fixed on that face, hands curled so tightly into fists they were near all white. 

“I’m doctor Evans,” the man introduced himself. “I’m the surgeon in charge of Poe. We just finished the surgery, and I’m glad to say that for now he’s pulled through.” There was no cheer, only the sound of a dozen people cautiously letting out a sigh of relief, while still waiting for a catch. “There was a lot of damage, and we’re keeping him under anaesthesia for now. He’s been put on a ventilating machine to take some strain off of his body while he recovers – but if all goes well, we should be able to wake him up within a few days. The greatest risk for now is further bleeding, blood clots, and stroke, but he is going to be monitored closely by the staff up at the ICU.” He gave them what they supposed was a reassuring little smile. “You will probably be allowed in to see him in the morning, but for now we’ll have to let the professionals do their thing.”

The doctor had barely left the waiting room before Kylo was heading for the elevator, Hux having little choice but to more or less run to catch up. Kylo had his arms crossed over his chest, shoulders squared, and his fingers digging into his biceps in a way that would leave bruises for weeks. His eyes were empty, shark-like, and Hux remembered that look very well – just being in this closed space with him right now was dangerous, but he had little choice. Besides, Hux was probably the only one who actually stood a chance of surviving if Kylo lost control again. Avoiding looking directly at him, just in case this version of Kylo would take it as a challenge, he noticed out of the corner of his eye how those dark orbs turned his way slightly.

“Gotta… gotta get home,” Kylo managed through clenched teeth. “Gonna lose it soon.”

Hux nodded.

“We’re going straight home.” He bit his lip, deciding to take a risk. “When we do, you will go straight down to the gym and take all that bad stuff out on the sandbags, understood?”

There was no response, not that he really expected it. Kylo was in that creepy dissociative state again, eyes empty, face blank – only his iron grip on his own arms and the trembling of his muscles gave away the storm brewing inside him. Hux got him safely into the car, keeping a steady grip on his shoulder as one of his security guards drove them as fast as he could back to the house. The guy had been there to witness Kylo’s last meltdown, and did not want to experience that ever again. As soon as they made it to the house, Kylo got out of the car, walking on autopilot through the door and down the stairs to the underground gym – the family members still at the house scattering in every direction to avoid getting in the way of him. It didn’t take long before the sound of fists making impact against a hard surface and the creaking of chains swinging near off their hook could be heard throughout most of the ground floor.  
Phasma, having returned home from her own scheduled tasks and meetings just in time to see Hux leave for the hospital, sent everyone away with sharp orders and wide gestures at the sight of his drawn face, and the house cleared within minutes. She then promptly dragged her cousin over to the couch and more or less threw him down on it. Hux removed his tie and eye-patch, throwing them away with an angry gesture. Phasma watched him for a moment, concern all over her features.

“I found the card,” she said. “On your desk. The jack of spades.” Hux made a noncommittal noise, and Phasma sighed. “It’s directed at Kylo isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” She rubbed a hand across her face. “Does he know?”

“No.” Hux closed his eyes, curling a bit on himself. “I haven’t had the chance to tell him yet. Poe almost died, Phas. You saw him just now – you really think he can even process the thought of the Solos going after him personally right now?”

“No. But you’re gonna have to. I mean, yeah, it’ll be a sucker punch of a message to receive, but I think he’ll be able to handle that better than the shit with Poe. You just gotta bring him out of that crazy state he’s in now.”

Hux sighed and nodded.

“You might wanna go stay at Dopheld’s tonight,” he said. “Just as a precaution.”

Phasma nodded. 

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. He just needs someone to help him snap out of it. Trust me, Phas, it’ll be fine.”

~*~*~

Hux took his time to prepare himself mentally. They’d talked quite a lot about their respective wants and needs over the past weeks, and Kylo had been very clear about what he needed in this specific situation; to be put in his place, to be forcefully brought into complete and utter submission, to not have to think a single thing for himself, to know he belonged to someone who did it for him. Only once he’d been brought to that state, the overwhelmed, empty, peaceful place in his head where only he and his dom existed and the world around them was just a bizarre fantasy, could he bear to be held close and comforted. 

Hux had no problem giving it to him – on the contrary, he had never been anything but honest and up front about what Kylo could expect from him if he was given the all clear to be rough with him. For the most part he preferred to take a softer approach, but the sadist in him needed his fill as well occasionally – something he had struggled a lot with over the years. Being strict and being sadistic were two very different things, and it had taken him a long time to come to terms with those darker needs of his. Not everyone could handle the things he liked, with the knives and the blood, the tightly tied ropes, the strangling, the flogging – and the last thing he ever wanted was to know he hurt someone doing it. So it had been something of a moment of absolute, heavenly choirs singing type bliss for him when Kylo nearly started openly drooling at the thought of Hux doing those things to him. The hardest part was going to be not praising him while he was doing it – to stay on the colder side, but Kylo had explained just why he needed that contrast of first the roughness, then the soothing instead of both together; he couldn’t handle it. Others had tried, but they had only ended up making it worse; the mixed signals only sending him deeper into the aggressive and tense state, and nothing terrified him more than the thought of hurting Hux.

The ginger had prepared his bedroom for the occasion, taking his time selecting the ropes he wanted to use, and some heavier shackles in case that would be a better option, and then carefully polishing up his collection of knives. Once he was satisfied that all his tools were in place, he retrieved some fruit and chocolate from the kitchen, along with a large pitcher of water, some glasses, and some red wine for when Kylo was all himself again. After getting some extra blankets and all the necessary equipment for treating the wounds he inflicted, and double-checking that the lubricant and condoms were still where he left them, he deemed the room all set, and allowed himself to sit down and collect his thoughts and feelings. Kylo was still at it down in the gym – the sound could be distinguished only just above the general noises of the house itself – the rhythm having slowed down some over the course of the last three hours since he arrived home, and it would soon be time to change into some more comfortable clothing and bring him up to the bedroom. 

~*~*~

_You’re a useless fuck up._

Punch. 

_All you do is destroy shit._

Punch. 

_It’s your fault he’s hurt._

Kick.

_They got to him because of you._

Punch. Punch. Kick.

_You hurt everyone around you._

Punch. Sob. Punch. Pain.

_You’re useless_.

Punch. Punch. Sob. Kick. Pain. Punch.

_You don’t deserve to be loved._

Punch. Pain. Sob. Punch. Sob.

_Your mom was right – she should’ve just aborted you._

Punch. Kick. Sob. Kick. Kick.

_All you ever do is fuck people’s lives up._

Sob. Kick. Punch. Punch. Sob.

_It’s your fault._

Sob. Punch. Sob.

_Everything is your fault._

Sob. Sob. Punch. Sob. Kick. Pain.

_You don’t deserve to live if he dies_.

Punch. Punch. Punch. Kick. Punch. Pain.

_They fucking dared hurt him!_

_They fucking dared hurt my family._

_Kill them all._

_Kill every last one of them._

_Burn the fucking city down_.

_KillthemkillthemkillthemKILLTHEM._

The sound of thick fabric ripping vaguely registered in his mind, as Kylo delivered one last hard punch at the now blood-smeared sandbag, and sand began pouring out from the growing hole in it as he sank to the floor in a sobbing heap. Everything hurt, but _not enough_. He was still boiling with that rage, still wanting to kill, maim, completely _fucking destroy_ anyone in his path and at the same time thirsted for someone to just fucking break him apart so he could stop feeling all this shit. Him or the world, _someone_ needed to fucking bleed right now – someone needed to fucking _hurt_.   
_He_ needed to hurt. He needed… needed Hux. Needed Hux to hurt him, to break him down and build him up. Needed Hux to make sense of him again. Needed not to… not to think about anything, not to think about all the anger and the hurt and the bad, bad, _bad_ , stuff storming around in him. He needed to be put in place so badly he _ached_ with it.

“Kylo,” Hux said from where he was leaning in the doorway. The fixer’s head turned slightly. “On your feet, now.”

Kylo got to his feet, turning around to face Hux. The ginger’s face was stern, but neutral, the look in his green eye determined with a predatory gleam shining through. No weaknesses showing for Kylo to zone in on.

“Come here.” Hux pointed a spot just in front of his feet, and Kylo obeyed, letting out a hiss when Hux grabbed his hair and used it to look him right in the eyes – studying him as if he was some wild creature, not even flinching at the threatening growl he received – only raising an eyebrow, before gripping harder, forcing him to bare his throat. “Do that again, and I’ll gag you. You’re not a fucking dog, Kylo.” Kylo glared at him, dark eyes still full of malice, not able to stop himself from wanting to _harm_. “But you are out of control, boy, and I’m going to put you right back into your place. And you will thank me for it.”

With that, he dragged him by his dark locks up the stairs to his bedroom, stopping in the middle of the floor and giving him a once over. Kylo stood, eyes fixed on him, posture rigid, ready to fight. He looked a lot like he’d done that night at the Fiddler’s, only a little more present – just enough to allow Hux to communicate with him, but not enough for this not to be a power struggle.

“Strip,” he ordered, not looking away for a second as the younger man did as he was told. “Do you remember the words?” A sullen nod. “Say them.”

“Red for stop, green for go ahead. Yellow for slow the fuck down.”

“Language, Kylo. Apologize.”

“I’m sorry.” Hux grabbed his hair again. “I’m sorry, _sir_.”

“Better. Now get on the bed. Sit on your knees, back against the headboard. Eyes on me until I tell you otherwise.”

Once Kylo did as instructed, Hux brought the ropes out – a lot rougher than the ones he’d used last time. This wasn’t supposed to be comfortable. With deft hands, he spread Kylo’s arms and legs out as far as he could, before binding them tightly – arms to the headboard, and his legs together so that he wouldn’t be able to stretch them out, then they too were secured to the board – leaving him completely wide open and exposed to Hux.

“Colour?” Hux checked in while admiring his handywork.

“Green,” Kylo snorted. Hux backhanded him.

“Watch your attitude. Colour?”

“Green, sir.”

“Good.” Hux took his time picking out a knife from his collection, knowing Kylo was watching his every move. “I considered flogging you,” he said, almost as an afterthought. “Make you count the lashes. But I doubt it would work too well on you. Your hide is too thick. Too used to it. But you’re not used to having someone cut you, I could tell from a mile away. I’ll make a pretty picture out of you, and you can’t do shit to stop it, can you?”

There was absolute murder in Kylo’s eyes, and it was clear he was biting back on a growl at the challenge. _Good_. So far, so good. Hux went to work, dragging the blade across his tattooed skin – letting it follow the contours of the winged skull covering his upper chest, piercing the skin just below the tip of the dagger that ran through the skull from his throat pit and down to the end of his sternum. Kylo hissed when he felt his skin break, fighting against his restraints as Hux held up the blade to let him see the red coating it. 

Along his arms, over his stomach, in criss-cross patterns across the insides of his thighs, tracing the veins of his rapidly swelling cock, resting against his neck before moving to paint his lips bright red, Hux let the knives dance – keeping Kylo’s feral gaze locked on his own, a predatory smile across his face as he watched the younger man struggle against both restraints and the man so obviously in charge of the situation. Blood ran in little streams from where Hux had parted his skin, red welts rising in other places, sweat dotting his forehead, and goose-bumps covering Kylo’s entire body as it fought with itself over whether this was pain or pleasure it was receiving. The way Hux would occasionally lean in and lick some of it off, making sure Kylo could see how much he enjoyed the taste didn’t help the situation.

Every time Kylo growled some profanity or threat at him, Hux dipped just one fingertip in a little bowl of salt he’d brought up, pressing it against one of the open wounds, reminding him of who it was he was disrespecting. The pain was of a very different kind than what Kylo had grown up getting used to, and a little seemed to have a very big effect on him as Hux worked him over – blood creating long streaks across his muscles, staining the sheets, and permeating the air. At some of the more colourful threats, he took a good chunk of skin between thumb and forefinger, and pinched down on it until it was sure to leave bruises for weeks. 

But as time ticked on, the mad glint in his eyes slowly, slowly, gave way to something sensual, utterly fucking debauched, and once Kylo began to react to the impact of the knives and the feeling of his tongue with little groans and whimpers instead of resistance, Hux knew he was winning this game – the way Kylo’s dick wouldn’t stop leaking pearly liquid was proof as well. Stepping off the bed and walking around to the foot of it, he took a moment to admire his creation – Kylo’s eyes pleading for him to come back close. Oh, he was beautiful like this! All that red against the massive amounts of dark ink and pale skin, the messed up hair, the tear-marks down his cheeks, and the lips swollen from being bitten down on. No praise, no humiliation, only pain and Hux’ dominant self had gotten him like this – and he was fucking _proud_ that he was the one Kylo trusted enough to let him do this.

“You with me, lad?” he asked, not heeding the silent plea. Kylo swallowed with some difficulty, then nodded lazily.

“’m here,” he murmured, voice thick and slurred, but present. “It hurts, sir. Hurts so bad. Feels _good_.”

“Have you learned your place now, boy?” He wasn’t letting Kylo out of those restraints until he was sure this wouldn’t run the risk of back-firing on him. Kylo had warned him, told him to make sure, _don’t drop character until you’re sure_. “Or do I need to fuck you back into it?”

Kylo fucking _mewled_ at that.

“Know my place, sir! Head’s less… less messy now. Need… need _you_ , though. Need you close.”

“Say please.” If there was one thing that other, darker, side of Kylo was unlikely to be able to do, it was to say that word.

“ _Please_ , sir.”

Hux nodded, and began untying him from the bed. It spoke volumes of Kylo’s improved state of mind that he stayed in place even after the ropes were gone. Hux placed a finger under his chin, bringing his face up so he could look him closely in the eyes again – searching for traces of that darkness. It wasn’t all gone, but it seemed to have begun to be replaced by a desperate need for skin on skin contact, as was made clear by the way Kylo nuzzled his hand, trying to coax it into a caress without accidentally being disobedient.

“You’re still messy,” Hux said. “Colour?”

“Green, sir.”

“Good. You’ve done so well, boy, but we still need to work that mess out of you. Get on your hands and knees. Eyes to the wall.”

Kylo moved into place, his limbs stiff and sore after so long in the same position, the sensation of the cuts against the cotton sheets making his breath catch in his throat. Hux placed a pair of broad steel cuffs around his wrists – a long chain attaching them to the headboard; allowing him room to move, but not to get away or touch the ginger. Keeping his gaze fixed on the wall as he’d been told, Kylo could hear the rustling sound of clothes falling to the floor, biting back a moan at the mental image of Hux’ naked body, and feeling relieved to be back enough into his own head to take notice of it. But Hux was right; he was still feeling all kinds of messy, still needed to be brought to the point of not being able to even think, to the point where he just existed. A bottle cap was popped open behind him, then one of Hux’ hands settled on his hip, thumb rubbing gently over his sore skin, and the other found its way between his spread legs to rub at his opening. There was nothing Kylo could do to hold back the loud moan as Hux dug his nail into his back and dragged them across it harshly at the same time as the first of his fingers worked its way past the ring-muscle.

“Do not hold back on your voice,” Hux commanded, working him open with determined movements. “I expect to hear every last little sound you make.” 

“Y-yessir!” Kylo whimpered.

“Not ‘sir’, now. You’ll say my name. Understood?” 

“Yes!”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, E-Ethan!”

“Good boy.”

Kylo wanted to escape his own skin at the same time as he never wanted to ever feel anything but Hux’ hands on him like this again – the pleasure and pain mixing together, blurring, too much and not enough. He dug his hands into the pillows, needing to hold onto something, needing to have some sort of anchor in this tidal wave of sensory overload as Hux brought the knives back into it – this time running it so gently across his hypersensitive skin that it felt more like a soft kiss than a weapon and Kylo felt new tears leaking out of his eyes from the sheer amount of _love_ he felt in the way the ginger used the knife to make abstract little patterns and write his name across every available surface while not for a second stopping the forceful movement of the now three fingers inside him. When Hux suddenly curled them, brushing over his prostate, Kylo shouted in surprise, voice fading into a desperate groan. Then Hux did it again – letting his fingers simply remain pressed against it, not moving at all.

“You’re gonna make a choice now,” he said, voice a bit rough – this was affecting him as well. “Prove to me that you can. You’ve taken three fingers now. You want one more, or do you want me to fuck you?”

“Y-you! Ethan, please. You! C-can’t stand it-! No more, _please_. Need..! Need you!” 

The possessive growl coming from Hux was the sexiest thing he had ever heard in his life, and he nearly came right then and there. Then he heard the sound of a condom wrapper being opened, the bottle of lube opening and closing again, and a moment later, _finally_ , he felt the head of his cock press against his opening – steadily sinking inside. That did make him come – tore his orgasm right out of him with a choked scream, every nerve in his body on fire. Hux continued pressing inside until he finally bottomed out with a relieved groan. Giving himself a few seconds to get a steady grip on Kylo’s hips, he set up a slow, deep, and absolutely unrelenting pace – Kylo’s mind rapidly dissolving with every thrust into his over-sensitive body, and he was vaguely aware of his own loud cries, groans, whimpers of ‘faster’, ‘deeper’, ‘more’, ‘anything’, ‘Ethan, please!’ – but he wasn’t the one in charge, they both knew it. He felt the tension building up in his body again, sweat pouring off his skin, mixing with the blood and stinging in his wounds, heat coiling tighter and tighter in his belly, everything not Ethan or him became a blurry, dream-like background until he struggle to even remember who he was.

After a while, Hux pulled him back against his chest, cradling him gently with one arm, while holding his hips in place with the other, and Kylo thought he must be crying or something from the way Hux kept whispering soothing nothings in his ears and peppering his face with soft kisses as his own pace became more hurried, more sloppy, more desperate, growls and moans drowned against Kylo’s sweat soaked hair as he too felt his climax approaching. The hand on his hip moved to stroke his cock, and it only took a few tugs for him to spill violently all over the bed, a loud sob escaping him – Hux following only moments later, burying himself as deep as he could go and stilling as he came, lips finding Kylo’s and clinging on like his life depended on it until they’d both worked through all the little aftershocks.

For a while, they just stayed like that – Hux holding Kylo close like he was a sacred thing, chest heaving from the exertion, and Kylo so blissed out he couldn’t even hold himself up – eyes half lidded and glassy, a lazy smile on his face. Eventually, though, Hux pulled out and got Kylo back down on the bed. Knotting off the condom and tossing it in the bin, he removed the cuffs, and got to work cleaning his lover up and starting the slow process of gently bringing him back to reality.

~*~*~

Finn let out a frustrated yell, throwing his phone down on the bed, when Poe’s phone went to voice mail for the seventh fucking time. What the fuck was going on? Poe always answered his phone, or at least texted back when he couldn’t actually take the call. But now Finn hadn’t heard from him for two whole days – not since the morning he went to see Mr Solo about that business proposal.

“He’s _still_ not answering?” Rey asked, coming back into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel and hair wet from the shower. Finn shook his head as Rey snuck into his arms, letting him rock her gently like a child. “That’s not very like him. And he didn’t text you back or anything?”

“No.” He took a deep breath. “I’m getting really worried, babe.”

“Me too. Hey, I got an idea. You got the number to his cousin? Tom, Tank… you know, the big bald guy.”

“Tank,” Finn smiled. “Yeah, I do, actually. Poe gave it to me when they went on that family road trip thing – in case his own got lost. How the hell did I forget that? I am the worst boyfriend in the world. Can’t even remember important stuff like that.”

Rey laughed and kissed him.

“Nah, you’re just a bit silly sometimes. You know where you put it?” 

“Yeah, lemme go get it.” He went over to a drawer and rummaged around for a bit, until he managed to find the bright pink sticky note and a burner phone. He paced anxiously back and forth as he waited for Tank to pick up, knowing that if someone would overhear him call this man – he was dead. This was all sorts of forbidden, but he had to know Poe was alright. “Hi, Tank? Yeah, this is Finn, Poe’s boyfriend. I haven’t heard form in him a few days, and I’m starting to wor- _what_?! Oh my God… T-thank you. S-sorry to disturb you. Bye.”

He hung up, staring blankly out into nothing for at least half a minute before noticing Rey’s worried questions. He looked at her, tears building up in his eyes, lips trembling despite his attempts to keep his cool.

“Poe…” he whispered. “Poe’s in the hospital. Someone tried to kill him. Someone tried to- Oh, _God_.”

He sank to the floor, Rey kneeling next to him, and they held each other close as they tried to wrap their heads around it. Finn couldn’t shake the nauseating feeling that he knew who that “someone” was. He hoped to God he was wrong. Because if he wasn’t… How do you tell someone as sweet and gentle like Rey that their own blood tried to kill someone they cared about? How do you explain that you think it was their father who did it?

You didn’t. Not unless you wanted to be next. 

Oh, how he fucking hoped he was just jumping to conclusions right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks around nervously* ...hi.
> 
> Uhm, so. Poe lives! Sort of. He's not out of the woods yet, but for now he's breathing! I know, I know. Why did I let him live? The answer is as always: plot reasons. You'll see.  
> Besides, business can turn personal so fast it's not even funny, and in this case... well, it was kinda inevitable, wasn't it? The jack of spades will be explained in upcoming chapters.
> 
> Describing Kylo's meltdown from his POV was really hard, and so was trying to do the rougher bdsm scene - and I hope I didn't disappoint you guys. Hux does have a sadistic streak, and he does like to bring it out on occasion - and I can only hope I managed to keep the healthy aspects intact as I wrote this. These two don't do Safe Sane Consensual (SSC), they do Risk Aware Consesual Kink (RACK) - and I would never, _ever_ , recommend this kind of session with a person in a mind state like Kylo's, unless both that person and you are extremely well aware of the risks involved for all parties. Kylo knows this works for him, and Hux trusts Kylo's ability to break it off if he needs to. So yeah, do not attempt this at home.  
> Also, seriously - do not try knife play at home, kids. Don't. I've been doing this for twelve years - I give lectures on it - and trust me when I say it takes a lot of research and practice to be able to practice this as safely as possible. Because when it does go wrong - it goes _really_ wrong.  
>  Also, also, aftercare is vital. Absolutely vital. A session like this without properly provided aftercare can severly traumatize someone. Never skip aftercare.
> 
> And poor, sweet, worried Finn! He's smarter than people give him credit for, and he's not new to the business. When shit like this happen, you start looking for which higher-ups might benefit from their "accidents". 
> 
> I'll be going out of town for a little now - gonna go visit my parents. I'll bring my laptop and see if I can get some writing done - but don't expect any updates until after Aug 17th. _A Song of Crows_ is first up, then I'll get working on chapter 9 for this one. :)  
>  I will be available on tumblr during the entire trip, if you wanna drop by and chat :)
> 
> And, as always, I love every single one of your comments - even though I suck at responding to them^^ So do tell me what you think before you leave, yeah? 
> 
> See you soon!


	9. A Good Lie is Ninety Per Cent Truth

It was fairly late in the morning when Hux and Kylo woke up. It had taken several hours of the most minute and tender aftercare to bring Kylo back into a safe and stable headspace, but eventually he’d come around. Hux knew there was still the risk of a sub drop in the days to come, and he vowed to treat his lover with extra gentleness until the risk had passed somewhat. If there was anything Kylo didn’t need right now, it was that added anxiety and emotional frailty, and even though he’d said he very rarely dropped, Hux preferred not to take any chances.

The ginger was the one to wake up first, stirring slowly and comfortably, still feeling the remnants of his own satiated dominant side from the day before. He had Kylo curled up with his back against his chest, resting his head on Hux’ arm, and his hand holding on to Hux’ where it lay slung around his chest to keep him close. It was incredibly warm under the covers, and the sweat had caused them to stick together, but Hux still hated the very idea of moving. They hadn’t spent that many nights together, but it had still become obvious fairly quickly that Kylo’s sleep was a restless and nightmare plagued one – but now he was completely relaxed in Hux’ arms, breaths deep and slow, heart a steady comforting rhythm against his hand. Burying his nose in the mass of black locks, Hux could pick out Kylo’s own unique and spicy scent under the smell of green apples from the shampoo he’d used to wash Kylo’s hair free of blood and sweat the night before. They’d ended up back in bed for a session of… well, normally Hux wouldn’t take the word ‘lovemaking’ in his mouth even with a gun to his head, but that was the only word that really fit. He was still reeling a bit from how overwhelming an experience it had been to have this killing machine of a man so soft and pliant and trusting underneath him – he could live off of the way his name had sounded falling from Kylo’s lips in adoring little whispers and pants, over and over until he’d come with a soft gasp only from the feeling of Hux inside him. He’d fallen asleep with his head on Hux’ chest, hand resting over his heart, and Hux’ arms securely around him.

They had business to deal with today, and all of it of the bad kind, but for now, Hux refused to leave this bed. The rest of the family would simply have to wait for him; right now, his number one priority was the slowly stirring young man next to him. Only the tiniest change in breathing and a slight tension in the muscles told him that Kylo was waking up, and he kissed his neck and shoulder softly to encourage him further. Soon Kylo turned slightly to look at him, and Hux caught his lips with his own, chapped lips and morning breath be damned – that mouth was made for kissing, and Hux wasn’t going to let any such opportunity escape him.

“Hey you,” Kylo murmured with a sleepy smile when they parted. “Did I oversleep?”

“Not at all,” Hux assured him, gently brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “You needed the rest, love, and so did I. How’re ye feeling? Sore?”

Kylo stretched his legs a little. “Mm, a little bit,” he nodded. “Not so bad. It’s good soreness.” The he smiled. “You know your accent comes out when you’re tired?”

“It does?”

“Mm. I like it. It’s hot.” 

“That’s good,” Hux smiled and kissed him again. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured against his lips when they parted.

“Ethan,” Kylo said slowly, something of a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Can we have another go before we have to get up?”

“Like I would ever deny you that.”

It was another hour before they finally got out of bed, and despite the shitty situation their family was in, Hux couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. Moments like these were going to be rare in the weeks to come, so they had to make the most of it while they could. After showering and a large breakfast, however, they ran out of excuses to delay, and called everyone in to deal with the ‘almighty clusterfuck of a situation’ they were in, as Kylo so eloquently put it. 

~*~*~

While they waited for their inner circle of people to report to the house, Hux took Kylo with him to the office to deal with the most gruesome aspect of the events of the day before. He knew there was no way Kylo would take the news in a good way, so he decided to treat it like a band-aid; pull it off quickly to have it done with. Besides, he still needed his lover to explain at least some of the details behind that threat before they could brief everyone else. Kylo would be the one who had all the information they needed, and if he was surprised with that information in front of everyone, his authority would suffer. He needed to be collected and prepared, because he was the only one in the Hux family with knowledge and experience of the Solo family’s inner workings and hierarchy. They would need him to take the lead here, even if Hux was the only one who knew he was in fact leading. He hated these delicate balances of power, but right now there was no other way. Hux could willingly admit to not knowing enough about the Italians to not fuck something up. Kylo wouldn’t make those mistakes. Thankfully, Kylo was already prepared for the worst-case scenario, so when Hux told there was some bad news to deal with he just nodded and followed. Sitting down in the chair by his own desk to the right side of the room, Kylo took a deep breath and looked at Hux, who was perched at the edge of the desk.

“Okay, sir,” he said. “Just tell me.”

Hux studied him for a moment before nodding and getting the card out of the top drawer of his own desk. Handing it over to Kylo, he was prepared for a fit of rage, for Kylo walking out and slamming the door behind him, for tears, for another meltdown, for anything… violent. But Kylo just ran his thumb over the bloody card, tracing the letters of the word, silent for several minutes. When he finally looked up, his eyes were glassy, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes and his jaw set, but he was remarkably calm.

“They did all that shit to Poe to get to me,” he said. It wasn’t a question. It was absolute knowledge, and it broke Hux a bit inside that he wasn’t even surprised. Kylo handed the card back. “What do you need to know? I can’t tell you everything, but as much as I can.”

Hux nodded and pulled one of the other chairs closer before sitting down, taking Kylo’s hand in his own.

“How close were you to the Solos?” he asked.

“Innermost circle,” Kylo said. “I was a shot caller. Enforcing, fixing, interrogation – I handled most of it.”

“You blood?”

“Yeah.”

Hux sighed.

“Well shit,” he said. “That complicates things.”

“I know,” Kylo murmured. “But trust me, no one hates that fact more than me. I aint got any love for that family. None what so fucking ever.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Hux nodded. “What about you and Poe?”

“We used to be together. He was my first.”

“First boyfriend?”

“First everything. First person to treat me like a human being, first friend, first, well, everything.” He looked at Hux. “We’re best friends,” he said. “We broke up about seven years ago now, so you don’t have to worry about any of that. But Poe’s my family. I love him, I really do, just not like that anymore. I’ve been with plenty others, and so has he. He’s got a boyfriend who’s with the Solos – Finn.”

Hux kissed the back of his hand, gently rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

“I’m not worried,” he assured. “But thank you for being honest.” He scratched his beard, seemingly trying to think about what to say. “Why do they consider you a traitor? Because you’re working for me now?” Kylo nodded and Hux cursed. “Who wrote it?”

“Han Solo.”

“Solo _himself_ wrote that to you?”

“Yeah.”

“You were that close to him?”

“Yeah.” Kylo fiddled with his rosary, biting his lip. “He doesn’t really interact with anyone outside the inner circle, but since I started early, and was inner circle from the get go, he kinda kept me close. I was an investment to him – someone to train and mould to his liking.”

“Why the card, though? Why not just a note?”

Kylo looked at it, where it lay on Hux’ desk – eyes distant.

“It was a thing he always used to tell me,” he said eventually. “A reminder to me not to think I could ever take his place – or any place like it. ‘A jack is not a prince, he will never be the king’. Regardless of what I did, how well I performed, and how much he liked me, I was just one of his soldiers. I was replaceable. He was the king, I was just… well, I know you don’t like me saying it, but I was an attack dog. He pointed me in a direction, told me to kill, and that’s what I did. The second I got in trouble, he dropped me like I was hot.”

“That’s why you went inside?”

“Yeah. I took care of a threat against the family. Some fucker ratted on me, and when the cops came lookin’ they just… threw me to the wolves, basically. Didn’t bail me out, didn’t provide a lawyer, nothing. Didn’t hear as much as a cough from ‘em for the whole three years I was inside.” He ran a hand through his hair. “So I thought, you know, to hell with ‘em. I didn’t wanna go back there. Couldn’t. Not when I know how fucking quick they were to drop me the first time.”

“So you changed your name and started over with us, with me,” Hux concluded, and Kylo nodded. “So, that means that somehow they found out. Question is how.”

“They must’ve seen me,” Kylo said. “I don’t think anyone ratted. At least I hope not, but I never really got any of those vibes from anyone here.”

Hux’ eye narrowed dangerously.

“If anyone did,” he growled. “I’ll fuckin’ crucify them.”

“So what do we tell the family?” Kylo asked. “You think they’ll take it the wrong way if they find out I’m related to the Solos? That all of this shit is about me. I mean, this is as fuckin’ personal as it gets, and I’m not even a Hux. I’m still the new guy around here.”

“We tell them the truth,” Hux said simply. “You used to work with the Solos, and they treated you like utter shite, so you left them. They got all hissy about it, so now they’re coming for you. I don’t think it’s all personal, to be honest with you. There’s too much business involved for this to be just about some sort of vengeance, so we still got plenty reason to go after them.”

Kylo sighed deeply and hid his face in his hands. Hux ran a soothing hand through his hair, tucking some stray strands behind his ear and kissing the top of his head.

“I’m gonna kill them,” Kylo growled under his breath. “I’m gonna fucking kill them.” He looked up, eyes dark pools of pain and determination. “Please let me kill Solo,” he pleaded. “ _Please_ , Ethan. You can have everyone else – I’ll give you every single fucking name, I swear. Just… just let me be the one who puts a bullet through that fucker’s head.”

Hux pulled him close, kissing his hair and rocking him like a child.

“I can’t promise you that, love,” he whispered. “I wish I could, but you know how this works. We might never even get close. And the other families might want a say in this as well, you know that. They’ve lost people too.”

“I know. I just… _fuck_. He hurt Poe. That cowardly fucking son of a bitch didn’t even have the fuckin’ balls to come find me – he had to go hurt the one guy who never did shit to him or anyone else. Poe’s not affiliated! He’s the best con man in the business, and he never ratted or screwed anyone over when he was hired – there wasn’t a single fucking reason to go after him.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He coaxed Kylo into a kiss. “We’ll get him,” he soothed when they broke apart. “We’ll find a way, I promise.”

~*~*~

Some forty people had gathered in the huge living room area when Kylo and Hux came down. A few members of the Tarkin family were there, as were a few others – but the majority were Huxes. Phasma had made sure they were all fed some coffee and given somewhere to sit, and to their mild surprise, Dopheld was there too, seated a bit to the side with a briefcase and a stack of folders next to his chair. As soon as the two leaders entered the room, Phasma came over and gave Kylo a tight hug.

“You okay, sweetheart?” she asked quietly. Kylo nodded. “Good. Now don’t worry, these guys aint got nothing but respect for you – no matter what you tell ‘em today.”

“Thanks, Phas,” Kylo murmured. “This aint gonna be easy.”

Hux cleared his throat and instantly had the full attention of everyone in the room. He had an arm around Kylo’s midsection, keeping him close to his side, making sure everyone understood that they were partners in more than just crime. He refused to keep their relationship hidden, to treat Kylo like some dirty secret. If anyone had a problem with them being together, they all knew where the door was. No one in the room seemed surprised or upset, so at least there wouldn’t be open mutiny here and now – which was all he needed to know for the time being.

“Listen up,” he said, never having been one for ceremony and grand welcoming speeches. “As you all know, Poe Dameron was dumped on our doorstep yesterday, beaten half to death by the Solos.” Grim faces and nods met that statement. “He’s Tank’s cousin, for those of you who didn’t know that. But he’s also Kylo’s best friend. What you need to know now is that yes, the Solos are trying to push us out of New York for business reasons – but there’s a personal aspect to this whole mess as well. Kylo, would you care to explain to them?”

Kylo nodded, and swallowed hard as all eyes were directed at him.

“I never made it a secret that I used to work for the Solos,” he said. “But I was in a lot deeper than you probably thought I was. I was a part of Han Solo’s inner circle.” Gasps and surprised curses were heard throughout the room. “I’m blood related to them,” Kylo continued. “Which, I can assure you, is not something I’m all that happy about. But it is what it is. Three years ago, a guy attempted to attack the boss’ wife, Leia, and I got called on to take care of it. I beat him to a pulp – for whatever reason, they wouldn’t let me kill him – and that was supposed to be that. But some fucker ratted me out, I’m guessing he wanted my position in the pecking order, and I went down for assault. The Solos ditched me completely; no lawyer, no bail, no nothing. It was pure fucking luck I only got three years, and that no one took a closer look at my history.” He paused to take a deep breath. “While I was in, Poe was the only one who stayed in contact. He came to visit me every other week, and he helped me realize I needed to get my sorry ass the hell away from the Solos – helped me change my name, get all the documents fixed and everything so I could start over fresh somewhere else.”

“But they found out,” one of the Tarkins concluded. “How?”

“We don’t know,” Hux admitted. “We believe they’ve spotted Kylo with me or with our men, and that they’ve told Solo about it. I don’t believe anyone’s ratted, but we’re still investigating that.”

“So, like Hux said,” Kylo continued. “A lot of this mess is about business. Solo is a greedy fucker, and he would love to run this family out of town so he can get his hands on our income. That is the part of the mess you’re all gonna have to deal with. But they’re coming after me as well. I don’t know if they’ve put out a hit on me, or if they wanna catch me themselves – but regardless, it’s gonna be messy as fuck. I won’t order anyone to help me with that part of it, but I would appreciate some back up, ‘cause I don’t have much choice – I gotta deal with this. I can’t let them get away with what they did – not to a member of my family.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” one of the senior enforcers asked. “That you’re a Solo, I mean. Would’ve been nice to know beforehand and all that.”

“Why? You got something to say?” Kylo asked, voice chilly, dangerous.

The man swallowed, but didn’t back down.

“Just would’ve been good to know we got a fucking Solo turncoat supposedly watching our backs.”

Hux looked just about ready to murder the man, but Kylo put a hand on his shoulder, standing his ground.

“Ah, so that’s what that’s about,” Kylo snorted. “You think I’d sell you all out to the Italians, huh? Stab you in the back when you aint watching, and go running back to Solo before you could catch me?”

“Sorry, man, but I know better than to trust anyone named Solo. I mean, you’ve been loyal so far – well, at least as far as I know – but who’s to say you won’t suddenly get all homesick for your Italian brethren, huh?”

“Can I kill him, Ethan?” Phasma asked, from behind Kylo. “Hurt him a little, at least?”

“He’s Kylo’s to kill, Phas,” Hux said. “And even if he wasn’t you’d have to get in line. I wouldn’t mind getting bloody either.”

The man suddenly didn’t look too sure of himself – apparently he’d hoped for some support, if the nervous glances around the room were anything to go by, but no one else seemed to share his rebellious feelings. Especially not when Hux himself wasn’t on their side. Kylo walked up to him, making sure to get completely in his space, and fixed him with a steady glare – the seven or so inches of height Kylo had on him didn’t help the poor fucker, who’d now begun to sweat pretty badly.

“You listen to me, you fucking shithead,” Kylo said, voice level, deceptively calm. “This is obviously shocking to you, so I’m gonna be lenient with you this one time. But if you ever question my loyalty to this family, or bring up the subject of my Italian heritage in a negative way, I will hunt you down, and I will gut you like a fucking pig. Do you understand what I’m saying?” The man nodded frantically. “Good. Now sit down, shut up, and don’t ever question your superiors ever again.”

The man practically melted into one of the armchairs, and the people around him took about half a step away from him – not wanting to be associated with any of his bullshit. Kylo looked around the room.

“Anyone else feeling like they wanna start shit? Please do it now, ‘cause we got about a metric fuckton of bullshit to deal with, and my best friend’s in the hospital, so, frankly, I am not in a good enough mood not to fucking kill anyone if you bitch with me right now.”

The silence spoke volumes.

The meeting ended a few hours later, after Kylo and Hux had laid out the plan of action – such as it was at the moment. For now, the most they could do was to retaliate and to start their own rounds of sabotage and attacks, to make sure the Solos understood that the Irish wouldn’t let themselves be intimidated by anything they did and that they wouldn’t be bullied out of their money by anyone – least of all the Italians. The bit about Poe was a more delicate matter, and they had discussed back and forth for a while, before coming to the decision that while retaliation had to happen, and had full blessing from the other families, it was a matter that concerned only the Huxes. Kylo shared as much information as he could to the crew present, making sure they’d brief their own subordinates – but no one was allowed to act without Kylo’s permission. This was his situation to deal with, and since he was the one with the actual knowledge about the Solos he was the only one with the competence to lead that particular operation.

~*~*~

“What the fuck is that little Solo bitch doing here?” Tank roared as he stepped into the room where Poe still lay unconscious and caught sight of Rey in the chair next to Finn. “You aint welcome here, you cunt!”

His wife tried to hush at him, but he refused to listen to her, and Finn had to step in front of his shocked girlfriend to stop the mountain of a man from grabbing her and physically throwing her out of the room. Rey herself tried to defend herself, question Tank’s accusations, and apologize all at once, causing her to mostly sputter and unintelligible mess of words – tears rapidly building up.

“Whoa, whoa whoa! Back off, Tank! Come on, man,” Finn pleaded. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this! Poe’s her friend, for fucks sake!”

“Get her the _fuck_ out of this room, or I’ll strangle the bitch!” Tank growled.

“It’s okay, Finn,” Rey managed as she got up and hurried towards the door. “I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll meet you outside.”

As soon as she was out, Tank grabbed Finn by the front of his jacket, lifting him clear off the ground. Finn tried to make himself as non-threatening as he could, holding his hands up in a defensive manner.

“Whoa, easy there!” he tried. “I aint here on any business, you know that.”

“My cousin almost _died_ because of them fucking Solos, and you bring the fucking boss’ daughter to his room? You fucking dare bring a Solo to my baby cousin’s sickbed, you piece of shit! I oughta snap your fucking neck!”

It took the collective effort of Tank’s wife and two of his other cousins to make him let go of Finn, allowing the younger man to sink into the nearest chair, clutching at his chest and trying to remember how to breathe. Once he managed to produce sound again, he looked at Poe’s gathered family.

“So it’s fact, then? It really was the Solos?” he asked.

“Oh, don’t play stupid, kid!” Tank snarled.

“I’m not! I didn’t know Poe was in trouble! I called you, remember! You honestly think I would’ve let my own boyfriend get hurt if I knew what they were gonna do? _Seriously?_ The hell’s wrong with you?”

“He’s got a point, Tank,” one of the cousins said. “That doesn’t sound much like the guy Poe’s told us about.”

“Thank you,” Finn sighed. “And Rey aint got shit to do with it either! They don’t tell her anything. She has no idea her old man does shit like this, okay?”

“How is that even possible?” Tank’s wife questioned. “How can she not know?”

“Leia watches her like a hawk,” Finn admitted. “No one’s allowed to talk business anywhere near her. Solo threatened to have me killed if I – and I quote – ‘dragged her into any of this shit, ‘cause she’s too fucking soft’.”

“What about his son, then?” Tank asked. “That… what’s his name? Benny? Brendan? Ben?”

“Ben,” Finn nodded. “He went down for assault or whatever. Dunno if he’s out yet. Never met the guy, to be honest. He’s inner circle, I’m not. Rey thinks the world of him, but no one else even talks about him nowadays, so I dunno.”

“No one talks about the boss’ son?” Tank was more than a little incredulous at that. Poe used to talk about Ben all the time! Or, well, he did, up until a few months ago – but that wasn’t anything unusual; after they broke up, they hadn’t spoken to each other for nearly a year, in order to sort themselves out a bit before trying to find the way back to their friendship – but for the guy’s own family to just pretend he didn’t exist? That was all kinds of fucked up. 

“No one who wants to live, no,” Finn confirmed. “Old man Solo aint too fond of people gossiping.”

“Old man Solo is a sick fuck,” Tank’s wife spat. “You oughta ditch that fucker, son.”

~*~*~

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, baby,” Finn apologized as he sat down next to Rey in a small waiting room nearby, pulling her into a hug. “I didn’t know they were coming. Are you okay?”

Rey looked up at him, eyes red rimmed, and cheeks wet from tears. She was as pale as a sheet, trembling like a leaf, and trying to force herself to stop crying. It broke his heart to see her like this.

“W-why did he say all those things, Finn?” she asked. “W-why would he make it sound like Dad- l-like Dad did that to Poe?”

“You heard all that?”

“I-I think the whole floor heard that.” She hid her face against his shirt, clinging on to him tightly. “I-I don’t understand, Finn! Why would my family hurt Poe? He’s a friend! He’s Ben’s best friend, I- I just don’t understand!”

Finn rocked her gently back and forth, trying to think fast and figure out some way to get them both the hell out of this conversation quickly. She was asking too many questions already – she shouldn’t even be thinking along these lines. How the hell was he going to get out of this? Especially since he was beginning to realize he didn’t really want to. He didn’t want to lie to her, especially not now.

“Why won’t you say anything?” Rey questioned between sobs. “Finn?”

“I-” Finn began. “I’m not allowed to tell you.” He swallowed hard, avoiding her gaze as she broke free to stare at him. “I want to, I swear! But if I do, and anyone finds out, I’ll be right in there next to Poe.” Shit! That wasn’t what he was going to say! Rey wasn’t supposed to know that either. _Shit!_

“T-they would hurt you for telling me why someone hurt Poe? I don’t even- That makes _no_ sense, Finn!”

Finn sighed and got to his feet. Rey watched as he anxiously paced back and forth for a while before sitting back down and taking her hands in his.

“Listen, Rey,” he said, voice more grave than she’d ever heard. “There’s a lot of shit no one’s told you about your family. We’re not allowed. Even your brother wasn’t allowed to talk about it around you. If I tell you, I’m a dead man, unless I leave town the second I’m finished. I want to tell you, I really do – because you deserve to know – but you have to understand that there’ll be consequences.”

“I need to know, Finn,” Rey sighed. “It’s not just this today – other people have been saying things as well. Not to my face, but I’ve still heard them.”

“ _What?_ Who?”

“Well, a few people at school, and some of the people at the shelter when I work there. I just… I feel like the only one left out of some big secret, and it makes me feel so _stupid!_ ”

“You’re not stupid, Rey. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. But these things… I, uhm, I guess everyone kinda just want to spare you having to know about it. You’re our princess – we don’t want you to feel bad. We want you to be happy.”

“By treating me like I’m a ignorant child?”

“Hey, I never said it was a good tactic!”

“I need to know, Finn. That’s your boyfriend in there. My friend. Ben’s best friend. You know who did this – I know you do, ‘cause I can tell. Tell me.”

“If I tell you, we have to run.”

“No, we don’t.” Rey straightened up to her full height. “We go to someone who will keep us safe.”

“Who the fuck would take us in?” Finn exclaimed. “Rey, we’re gonna be fair game for everyone in this town! We gotta get across country, at the very least. Europe might be a better idea. Or, fuck, the Australian outback! We can’t stay here!”

“We’re. Not. Leaving. Ben’s gonna be out of prison any day now, and I am not gonna run off like some thief and not be there when he gets out! I promised!”

“I know, but babe, listen to me. This is serious. Ben’s gonna understand. He knows the rules, and all he wants is for you to be safe. He’s your brother.”

Rey looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Tank’s mafia, right?”

“Huh, wha- why?”

“He doesn’t like the Solo family at all, does he? Well, I figure he has a boss. And that boss gotta hate the Solos too, so we’re gonna go ask him for protection. Show everyone we had nothing to do with this.”

“Rey, I love you more than anything, but are you out of your _goddamned mind?!_ If we go to the Huxes, they’re gonna shoot us before we even get close enough to ring their fucking doorbell! This aint a game, sweetie! We gotta leave! It’s the only way.”

“No! I need to know, Finn. I’m tired of being treated like a kid! My brother’s in prison and no one tells me why. I’m not allowed to visit or even call him because they think I can’t handle it. Mum and Dad won’t even say his name anymore, and now Poe’s in a coma – and Tank says that my family did this. I have to know, Finn. Please. If I have to go away for a while, or hide with someone else, then I’ll do it! I just- I just need someone to tell me what the _fuck_ is going on because I’m gonna lose my mind soon!”

Rey’s voice rose to a pitch and cracked at the last words. Finn pulled her close again, holding her tightly and kissing her hair. Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_! She really didn’t understand just how bad an idea it would be to go ring Ethan Hux’ doorbell, did she? That cold bastard would probably pop a boner right then and there from the sheer power he’d have when Han Solo’s daughter willingly handed herself over. How could she not understand what a fucking leverage she would be against the Solos? He didn’t doubt for a second that Hux would take them both hostage and use her to force Solo to his knees. Shit. He had to make her understand why they had to go. He didn’t want to be here when shit went down, and he would rather die than leave Rey in the middle of it. Finn had never even thought about ditching before today – but now… now he was starting to really fucking wonder why he hadn’t done so ages ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost named this chapter Sulky McCrankypants, because that's what I've been calling it the whole time I wrote it. It's been absolutely infuriatingly disobedient, so if it's wonky and lacking in flow or something like that, I'm terribly sorry.  
> Also, yikes at the amount of dialogue crammed in here! These baddie sure like to talk, don't they?
> 
> The jack of spades: Han Solo is not referring to a jack as a prince in a deck of cards, but as a synonym for a knave, which is basically just a footsoldier - and a highly replaceable one at that. So, he's basically been telling Kylo for years that he may be his son, but he's not gonna get shit from Han; he's a soldier, not an heir. Han calls the shots, and everyone else just have to do as they are told. A+ parenting, right there. Yes, I'm being sarcastic. 
> 
> I have to say, though, that that was some top level dodging of questions Kylo did there! But it was necessary. It's not like he can just go "oh, and btw I'm your arch enemy's son!" - that would ruin everything.  
> They kinda also have to tell the inner circle, because at this point everyone knows what happened to Poe, and they get that something is going on. This way they avoid rumours and show that they're capable of handling both aspects of the conflict - both the business part and the personal part.
> 
> And no, no one except Poe (and the commissioner) knows that Ben is Kylo. Finn never got to meet him, and Poe said he was together with Ben, while saying Kylo is his best friend. Tank has never seen Ben - definitely not after the scar and all of that, so he has no reason to think Kylo is anyone but the person he and Poe says he is. Poe was very thorough in forging the documents.
> 
> Rey... my sweet summer child. This was difficult to write - because being in the situation she's in is very hard. There are so many layers of emotions, and denial, and fear, and self deception involved that it's very challenging to try and portray it properly. But, as you might remember, she knows her parents are shady - but she's never realized they're this shady. She's shocked, and angry, and frustrated, because a lot of things are suddenly starting to fall into place for her and she's realizing that she's been lied to by everyone around her. I've been in this situation, and so have a lot of people I know - and while it's sometimes easier to just pretend everything's fine, it's excruciatingly hard to deal with the realization that stuff is going on and everyone around you knows - but no one is telling you anything. Being kept in the dark like that is terrifying and infuriating. But Rey is getting her very rude awakening now.  
> And Finn... Yeah, he's scared shitless, and he has reason to be. If the boss tells you you can't speak about something, you'll be dead if you do. He knows that. He knows he's replaceable. He knows that they can't just waltz over to the Huxes, because they're the enemy! They're fair game, and at this point they'd be lucky to make it out of New York, should he tell her anything. This is another one of those thing Hollywood doesn't tell you about. How much of a minefield it is to be in this life - that you might have to leave everything behind and run at the drop of a hat, and that once you do, you can never come back - because criminals have very long memories, and they will kill you if they get a chance. Finn knows this. Rey doesn't. She's never had a reason to learn.
> 
> As always, I love each and every single one of you who comments, so please take a minute to tell me what you thought of the chapter before you go, yeah? If you've got questions about the fic, the 'verse, the characters - or anything else you wanna talk about, you are always welcome to pop over to tumblr and invade my askbox!  
> Until next time, lovelies!


	10. All the Tangled Threads

Finn had given in to Rey’s pleas, of course. He just couldn’t stand to see her so upset, and after he’d gotten her home and made sure no one was listening in, he’d given her the whole ugly story of the Solo family – and, more importantly, the story of how her foster brother and number one hero had ended up in Attica for three years. To say that she’d been distraught was an understatement, and for two days straight she’d shut herself in the bedroom, refusing to come out or talk to him. Not that he blamed her; having one’s entire reality shattered like that had to hurt – so he gave her space, went to work and pretended everything was fine. When someone asked why he seemed a little out of it, he just waved it off as a lover’s quarrel. No one cared about that stuff, so his word went unchallenged – allowing him at least a little bit a of a reprieve as he tried to figure out where the hell they could run, and how.

When he’d gotten home an hour or so earlier, he’d found Rey in the living room, their stuff packed into a couple of large gym bags on the floor next to the couch. She was pale, her eyes still puffy from all the crying, and she looked genuinely scared, but determined, despite it all. He loved that about her; this quiet strength she possessed. She was braver than people gave her cred for, she really was. As he approached the couch, she gave a small smile.

“Mum called,” she said. “Asked if I would like to come home for the weekend. I told her you were taking me to LA, to see that exhibition I’ve been talking about. You know, the one with all the street art? Said we’d make a little holiday out of it – go down to New Jersey and visit Jessica while we’re at it.” She sounded proud, but her smile had faded some. “That was okay, right? Everyone knows I’ve been wanting to go, and Da- _Han_ , says I can only go if you go with me. So I told him I’d ask you.” She bit her lip, looking angry for a moment. “He sounded so normal, so much like he always does. Poe’s in a hospital because of him, and he was joking with me about how I’d have to bring home some good food to bribe you with to get you to drive all that way. It makes me sick, Finn!”

“I know,” Finn soothed, sitting down next to her and kissing her gently. “I know, baby. You think he suspected anything?”

She shook her head.

“I spent three years in drama class,” she grumbled. “I’m not about to risk my boyfriend’s health by being too obvious if I can act my way out of it.”

“Act your way out of it? _Huh?_ ”

“I acted out ‘happy Rey who wants mommy and daddy’s permission to go places’. They took the bait. I hope.”

“You’re amazing!” Finn kissed her. “Is everything packed?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we gotta go. Leave your phone here. We’ll get burner ones. We gotta make sure they see us leavin’ town before we can decide where we go from there.”

“We’re not actually leaving town, right? You said you’d think of something.”

“Yeah, I know,” Finn sighed. He really didn’t want to stay, but he knew there was no way of getting Rey to leave town without using force, and he refused to be that kind of man. “I think I got an idea, but it’s risky. If it doesn’t work, then I’m sorry, but we’re gonna have to ditch – because if someone sees us there, they’ll put out a hit on us faster than you can say ‘manhattan’.”

Rey just nodded, placated by the answer, and they gathered their stuff and headed for Rey’s bright orange and white little Mini. They’d have to ditch it somewhere – it was too easily recognizable, but that was a problem for when they were safely out of town. Rey had even been smart enough to bring her very tell tale collection of travelling snacks and favourite pillow. Oh, she was good, his girl! 

~*~*~

When Tank called to inform Kylo that Poe had finally woken up, Kylo had been down in the gym, teaching a very overwhelmed Dopheld how to defend himself. Phasma cheered them on, while Hux took care of some administrative details on his tablet nearby. Hux didn’t even pretend to join them for any other reason than watching Kylo’s shirtless body and admire the way all the cuts and bruises from their latest session were healing. Kylo, of course, revelled in his attention, but when Hux handed him his phone, all of that was forgotten as he left the gym to have the quickest shower in his life before heading for the hospital. Hux got the car out, surprising the fuck out of the security staff when he said he’d drive – Hux hated driving, it was a well known fact in the family. Kylo was surprised, too, when he came out and saw Hux already waiting for him in the car.

“I do know how to drive a car,” Hux said in response to Kylo’s raised eyebrow as he got in the passenger seat. “I simply prefer not to. But I don’t want you to drive when your mind’s all jumbled like that. It won’t help Poe in the slightest if we crash into something and you end up in a bed next to him.”

“I’m not that upset,” Kylo protested. 

“Love, you’re shaking like a leaf. I’m driving. End of discussion.”

Kylo looked sheepish for a moment.

“Yessir.” 

They hadn’t even gotten halfway there before Kylo was seriously regretting the whole thing. Ethan Hux, it turned out, suffered from road rage – and that was putting it mildly. He also seemed completely unbothered by any regards for safety or general traffic regulations. Quite frankly, the man drove like he had the Devil on his tail – a long string of profanities in broad Irish, and something else, which Kylo guessed might be Gaelic, accompanied them as they made their way through the city. Trying to remember how to breathe, Kylo vowed silently to himself that next time Ethan offered to drive, Kylo would walk – even if it took him all day. He wasn’t scared of many things, but Ethan’s driving was definitely one of them.

But they eventually made it to the hospital without any major incidents and the second they were out of the car, Hux was back to his usual collected and dignified self. He took a seat in the nearby waiting room along with Tank and some of his family members while Kylo went to see Poe alone. The two of them deserved some privacy for this, and he knew Kylo hated it when people saw him being emotional. 

Poe was dozing when Kylo sat down in the chair next to his bed, and Kylo took the opportunity to study the damage done to him. He still looked a mess, bruised and swollen, with bandages everywhere and IV’s sticking out of his arms. It made Kylo all cold inside to see him like this and know that Han did it because of him. Because Poe was Kylo’s friend and family, he ended up beaten to a bloody pulp, and Kylo struggled to find a way to handle the crushing weight of guilt. After a little while, Poe’s eyes fluttered open, and he turned his head as much as he was able to in order to see who was sitting by his bed. A tired smile made its way onto his face.

“Hey you,” he murmured. “You look like… like shit, man.”

Kylo chuckled, wiping away a few tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“Says the guy imitating a mummy,” he said and carefully took Poe’s hand between his own. “I’m so glad to see you awake. For a moment there, I thought you’d checked out.”

“You know what?” Poe chuckled tiredly. “For a moment there, so did I.” 

They were quiet for a while – the silence had never bothered either of them. On the contrary, it was soothing, safe, something they’d always been able to share and reach each other through.

“He’s coming for you,” Poe said eventually. 

“I know.”

“They didn’t even ask me any questions. They just… beat me.”

“They’re never gonna touch you again. I promise.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“He doesn’t think you can.”

“He doesn’t think I can do anything.”

“Gonna prove him wrong, huh?”

“You bet.”

“Now that’s my guy,” Poe smiled, before turning serious again. “Does he know who you are?” Kylo shook his head, and Poe sighed. “You gotta tell him.”

“I know. Just dunno how.”

“You’re smart. You’ll figure something out, I know you will.”

Soon, Poe dozed off again – his body is desperate need of rest, and Kylo gave his hand one last comforting squeeze before heading back out to the waiting room. Tank pulled him into a tight hug, and they stayed like that for a moment. 

“Them fucking Solos,” Tank growled under his breath. “We’ll get the fuckers, son. We’ll kill ‘em all.”

Kylo swallowed. Yeah, he was going to kill some Solos, that much was certain – but he hoped he’d be able to get it done before the truth of his past came out. If Tank found out who Kylo used to be, and why Poe had been targeted… Well, Kylo would be so far up shit creek he might as well develop gills and stay there – because convincing Tank to trust him, trust someone born Solo, would probably be damn near impossible. Not that he blamed him. That family was a fucking cesspool – infecting anything and everything it touched, until all of it was as rotten and vile as they were. Yeah, sure, the other families weren’t exactly the fucking Brady Bunch, but they at least had some basic sense of kinship and loyalty. All the Solos ever had was fear – fear of what Han would do if they fucked up, fear of what Leia would do if they disappointed her, fear of someone stabbing them in the back to climb higher up the ladder, fear of being ratted out, fear of… well, _everything_.

Good thing Kylo had a plan. After some careful consideration, and some input and permission from Hux, Kylo had come up with a plan to make sure he kept he Solos’ attention solely on himself. He didn’t tell Hux about that last part, of course – only said he wanted to make sure the retaliation was equal to the damage already done. So, at least one Solo in a hospital – but that wasn’t all. He was going to hit that motherfucker Han Solo where it _hurt_.

Never let it be said that Kylo Ren wasn’t observant. Never let it be said that he didn’t have a knack for finding people’s weaknesses. Han really should know this, but then again, Han really _should_ know a lot of things – he just didn’t think they were important, and that was his big mistake.

~*~*~

Going after Artie was perhaps a little bit unfair, but Kylo honestly couldn’t give less of a fuck at that moment, because the short, fat, and completely bald little man – who looked like a cross between Uncle Fester and a trash can – was Han’s personal accountant, and there was no quicker way of getting to him than to go after his wallet. Artie was probably the single most neurotic man Kylo had ever met, and he babbled like a bloody parrot when under duress. He also had a habit of being a bit touchy feely with young kids – so Kylo figured some payback was in order for all the times he and the other kids been forced to endure his wandering hands back when he was little. 

Finding him was easy. Artie was borderline compulsive in his routines, so all Kylo had to do was to pick the lock to his town house – how he could even afford a fucking town house was a mystery, but he did – and make himself comfortable while he waited for the clock to strike eight pm. Sure enough, at eight pm sharp, he could hear the key turning in the lock on the front door, and moments later, Artie entered the kitchen – freezing up at the sight of Kylo and his tool kit at his kitchen table. They weren’t visible from the street – the kitchen faced his little back yard, with the high brick wall shielding them from the neighbours’ sight – and sound didn’t travel much in this house.

“Hi, uncle Artie,” Kylo smiled sweetly. “I got some things I need to talk to you about. Come on, come sit down and we’ll… talk.”

Artie looked like he was about to pass out or piss himself, and he practically melted into the chair opposite of Kylo. 

“I- I thought you were in prison,” he said. “Han said you were in prison. How- Why are you here?”

“I did my time.” Kylo studied him closely. “And don’t act like some idiot. You helped them close my accounts. You’re the only one he trusts with shit like that.” He stood up, then rounded the table faster than Artie could keep up with, putting a knife to the older man’s throat. “As for why I’m here,” he said, coaxing Artie out of the chair and moving towards the stairs leading to the basement. “You and me are going to spend some quality time down in the basement. I’ve been wanting to cut you into little pieces for years, _uncle_ Artie. Seems Han just gave the perfect excuse.”

“B-Ben, please!” Artie stammered – voice shrill and panicked. “Let’s- Uhm Let’s be reasonable about this. There’s no need- no need for violence! I’ll tell you whatever you need to know. Just… just put the knife away, _please_?”

Kylo chuckled.

“Oh, right. I said ‘talk’, didn’t I?” He threw Artie down the stairs, and then dragged him over to a chair. “I kinda lied.”

At that point, Artie did piss himself. 

~*~*~

Hux was still up when Kylo came home a few hours later – sitting in his favourite armchair in the living room, a glass of whiskey on the table next to him as he read an old and worn copy of _Macbeth_. There was a fire going in the fireplace, the cheerful crackling of the wood and dry warmth spreading all the way out into the hallway made all tension in Kylo’s body dissipate. As he entered the living room, Hux looked up, smiled, and extended a hand to pull him into his lap. Kylo straddled his thighs and allowed himself to be stripped out of his shirt and tank top as Hux kept his lips locked to his own in a slow, deep kiss.

“Tell me what you did to him,” Hux murmured as he kissed along Kylo’s jaw and down over his neck, nipping the sensitive skin here and there. Oh, Kylo liked where this was going!

“I… _ah_ \- I tied him up,” Kylo managed, breath hitching and becoming more laboured under Hux’ skilful hands and mouth. “B-broke his- uh, _fuck_ \- his bones. Then I cut his dick off.”

“You savage,” Hux grinned before biting down hard on Kylo’s left pectoral muscle. “Did he scream?”

“Like a pig- _oh, jesus fuck, Ethan!_ If- if you’re gonna keep that up, we need- need to get in bed.”

“In a moment, love,” Hux promised, voice rough, husky. Kylo loved it when he sounded like that. “Tell me more. I know you wouldn’t be satisfied with just castrating him. Come on, love, _indulge me_.”

Kylo took great care in describing all the details, until Hux decided he’d heard enough, and proceeded to fuck him silly right there in front of the fireplace. After they’d cleaned up and settled in bed, Kylo tucked in securely against Hux’ chest, the ginger’s arms wrapped loosely around him, they took a moment to just enjoy the closeness. Hux ran his fingers through Kylo’s hair – it seemed to have become a habit of his rather quickly – and it had Kylo damn near purring from contentment. He had burns on his knees, back, and shoulders from the thick furs on the floor, and he relished the sting every time the sheets touched them.

“I have a little surprise for you,” Hux said eventually. Kylo looked up at him, a smile breaking out across his features.

“Really?” 

“Yes. I’ll need you to come with me to the docks tomorrow. The new shipment is coming in, and I’ve got you something I think you’ll like. A little treat, if you wish, to cheer you up after all this shite that’s been happening lately.”

“Thank you, sir!” Kylo beamed. Hux chuckled.

“Anything for you, love.” He kissed the top of Kylo’s head. “Phasma wants you to keep training Dopheld, by the way. She said he’s quite impressed with how good you were at instructing, so she asked me to tell you.”

“He’s not half as soft as he looks,” Kylo chuckled. “He’s got potential. Yeah. Sure, I can help him out some more. No probs. Is Phasma thinking of bringing him on board, or what?”

“Seems like it.”

“Huh. Go figure.”

~*~*~

Rey and Finn’s safe haven came in the form of one old apartment building, owned by a huge Irish woman named Hettie – whom Poe had sworn was not half as mean as she made herself out to be, and who would help them if they ever needed it. When he’d told Finn this, weeks ago now, Finn had brushed it off as Poe being anxious and over-protective. Now, he was glad his boyfriend had made him memorize Hettie’s address – but also scared shitless of the mountain of a woman in front of him. Poe was wrong; she was the _single scariest thing_ he’d ever met, he was sure of it now after having been trying to convince her to take them in for the better part of half an hour. She’d been playing dumb with them, trying to make them fuck up their story, looking for a reason to throw them out – but too bad for her, there was only one story here and sad as it was, it was the truth. 

“So ye’re tellin’ me yer some mate o’ tha’ Dam’ron lad, eh?” Hettie studied them as she puffed away at her foul smelling pipe. Fuck knew what she’s stuffed it with, but it smelled like she’d taken the tobacco from a week-old ashtray and shoved it into the pipe. Rey’s eyes were already watering from the sheer strength of the smell, and Finn was trying very hard not to inhale too much of it as he nodded frantically in response to her question – hoping they were finally getting somewhere. “An’ ye need some place t’ stay, ‘cos the Italian buggers ‘re comin’ for ye?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Rey wheezed out. “I’m so sorry to be bothering you like this, but we don’t know where else to go!”

Hettie looked at her, pursing her lips.

“’ow old are ye, love?” she asked.

“Twenty-two,” Rey answered. “Why do you ask?”

“Too bloody young t’ be dealin’ with them buggered mobsters,” Hettie muttered in distaste. “Yer Mum and Da’ should be ashamed o’ themselves for puttin’ ye in this situation.”

“Poe said we should go to you if we ever needed help,” Finn said. “He said we could trust you, because you helped Kylo out, too.”

At the mention of Kylo’s name, Hettie visibly perked up, smiling from ear to ear and showing off her absolutely horrid dental status. 

“Ach, Kylo, my lad!” she grinned. “Now tha’s a good lad. Ne’er a problem with ‘im, always helpin’ out ‘round ‘ere, an’ being a sweetheart.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Aye, I’ll ‘help ye both out – for now. I fin’ out ye lied t’ me, or ye go off an’ start a load o’ trouble, I’ll ‘ave yer arses thrown outta ‘ere so fast ye won’t e’en kno’ wha’ hit ye. But ye’ll ‘ave t’ get the mattresses an’ stuff outta the basement yerselves. And don’t ye go talkin’ to none o’ t’ neighours, either. We stick t’ our own business ‘ere, ye understand?”

“Understood!” Rey nodded. 

Hettie hummed, then pointed them in the direction of the basement. Out of some sort of storage room, they managed to haul a queen-sized mattress, a tiny table, and two chairs up the three floors to the tiny apartment Hettie had assigned them. The sign on the door said ‘K. Ren’. It was Kylo’s apartment, and they were confused for a moment until Finn remembered Poe telling him that Kylo had moved in with the Hux family’s boss. This whole thing was becoming way to inception-like for him, but he kept his mouth shut. Sometimes, the world of organized crime felt about as big as a fucking duck pond.  
Hettie handed them some sheets and spare covers from somewhere, and left them to get settled. Once they’d gotten a bit organized, Rey sank down on their new bed, sighing deeply as she looked around the place. Her eyes were a bit glassy, Finn noticed, and he hurried to sit down next to her and pull her close.

“You okay, sweetie,” he asked. “I know this aint much, but we gotta keep a real low profile right now. Once things settle, I promise I’ll find us a proper place to live, okay?”

Rey smiled, but shook her head.

“It’s not that,” she said, a sad smile on her face. “This Kylo guy, he- he uses the same after shave as Ben did. The bathroom smells like Ben, and I just- I miss him so _much_!”

Finn rocked her gently back and forth as she cried against his chest. Ben had always been Rey’s hero – ever since she was little, even before she was adopted by Han and Leia. Ben had always been there for her, protecting her, and doing his best to keep her happy. These years since his arrest had been harder on her than she liked to admit – having struggled as much as she did with trying to reconcile her image of her big brother with the truth that said big brother had committed a crime that merited a prison sentence.   
Finn knew she was angry with herself for never going to visit him, but he also knew that when her parents said ‘no’, that was that. There was no negotiating, no pleading – it was final. And Rey was far too soft to handle the whole routine of the visits; she’d break down right then and there at the sight of the harsh reality of her brother’s new world – because Rey hated seeing people hurt. She hated injustice, she hated suffering. She hated violence even more – and in the end, that was the one thing that kept her away from disobeying Han and Leia to go visit anyway: she couldn’t stand knowing that Ben had hurt someone. He should have known better. He should have found some other way.  
But she was starting to learn now, what this world really looked like. Maybe that’s what hurt so badly now, the realization that this entire world was built on and sustained by the very violence she despised. She’d been angry with her brother for acting in accordance with the rules of this world – and that wasn’t fair. 

Finn wished Poe was here with them. He was so much better at explaining things than Finn was. He could’ve helped Rey through this in a far more pedagogic and gentle way. But Finn also wanted Poe with them because he missed him like crazy. It wasn’t a great situation to be in for him – his boyfriend in the hospital, and his girlfriend and himself in hiding from the people responsible. He needed Poe’s soft, comforting presence, his awful sense of humour, his natural talent for making everything feel like it would work out. Part of the reason was purely selfish: Over the days since Poe’s disappearance and subsequent reappearance in the hospital, Finn had started having this nagging, itchy feeling in his gut that this was his fault. He couldn’t help feeling like Han had set him up, had tricked him into sending his own lover into harm’s way – to be used as a tool of revenge in some stupid ass power play.

He hoped to God it wasn’t the case, but he’d been in this life long enough to know that, yeah, it probably was. And he just needed Poe here right now, needed him to tell him he forgave him, needed him to… needed him to be _okay_ , to be here in Finn’s arms where he belonged. Because right now, both of the people Finn loved were hurting, and if there was one thing he just couldn’t stand for, it was seeing people he cared about in pain and not being able to help them. Luckily for him, both his partners were very caring and understanding people, so he never had to be alone with his struggles.

~*~*~

Kylo loved the smell of guns more than what was strictly speaking normal – that metal-and-oil combination had him weak in the knees every time he smelled it, and just the action of handling the guns themselves always made him feel happy and content - and often more than a little aroused. The gleam in Hux’ eyes as he inspected the newest shipment told him that this sentiment was something they definitely had in common.   
The Hux family weren’t anything less than perfectionists when it came to business, so no new shipment ever made it further into the country without having first been thoroughly inspected. Of course, Hux himself didn’t always have time, but he did try to appear in person as much as he could – if nothing else, then as a sign of respect to their suppliers. Up until now, Kylo had usually stayed by the door while Tank and Hux, or Hux and Phasma, went through each and every single crate to make sure everything met their standards. With Tank on leave to care for his family, and Phasma off doing whatever it was she did in her private time, Hux had apparently decided it was high time to introduce Kylo to their business partners.

Once they’d both agreed that the goods met the expectations and had motioned for their people handed over the payment, Hux lead him over to a crate a bit off to the side. Kylo looked at it curiously, before turning to Hux, who had a rather smug look on his face.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Your present,” Hux said, holding a crowbar out for him. “Open it, come on.”

Kylo accepted the crowbar and quickly got the lid off. He carefully removed the straw used for insulation and padding, then just stopped and stared – eyes wide, mouth agape.

“This… this is a HTR 2000,” he whispered in awe. “You got me a _HTR 2000_?”

“Well,” Hux shrugged. “You did say they were your favourite.”

Kylo swallowed hard as he reached in and carefully lifted the sleek weapon out of the crate, brushing off some odd strands of straw, before giving it a thorough inspection – hands moving expertly as he turned it over in his hands to study every last detail. Oh, this man knew how to handle a weapon like this, Hux noted with delighted satisfaction, as Kylo settled into a perfect stance while checking the mounted scope as he muttered to himself about tweaks needing to be made. They should really head home soon. If he knew his Kylo at all, he would be wanting to show proper appreciation of the gift, and Hux would rather not have an audience for that.

“You like it?” he smiled as Kylo packed it into the case Hux had got for him to carry it in. 

“I love it!” Kylo smiled. “Thank you, sir! I’ll have to go by the gun range one of these days, to get to know her better.”

Hux rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“I’ll make sure they clear it for us,” he said. “I could use some practice, too – and I refuse to miss the opportunity to see you in action.”

“Yessir!”

“Come on, lad. Let’s get home, shall we? We’re done here, and I’d prefer it if you teach me the wonders of the HTR 2000 in the comfort of our home.”

The smile they shared was positively wicked. Kylo slung the case over his shoulder and fell into his usual place half a step behind Hux as they left the warehouse with their men in tow. About half of this shipment was going further inland to be sold off to various criminal groups, a few biker gangs, some survivalist idiots, and other unpleasant figures – and the other half would serve to see to it that they never lacked in weapons throughout this whole confounded conflict. If the Solos wanted to fight one of the top weapons dealers in the Western Hemisphere, then fine. The Huxes would show them just how big a mistake that was. They’d chase the Solos out of New York, or they’d wipe them all out – either way worked fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erhm, yes, sorry for the delay in update. School started, and the first week completely kicked my spoonie ass. Also, from now on, I will be focusing on finishing A Song of Crows - so I will alternate two aSoc chapters and one Lullabies chapter for the foreseeable future. So, you'll have two updates in a row for aSoC before next installment of this one. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but hopefully this will help me stay sane^^
> 
> I don't have much to say about this chapter, to be honest. It was very uncooperative the whole way through, and it's more of a transport chapter than anything. There are some important plot clues in it, though, so keep your eyes open in upcoming chapters^^
> 
> The HTR 2000 is a sniper rifle, used by both US and Israeli military. It's Kylo's favourite rifle, so naturally Hux will buy him one - because what's the point of being a badass weapons dealer if you can't spoil your boyfriend rotten while supporting his raging weapons kink? 
> 
> Until next time, lovelies!

**Author's Note:**

> "Fixer" here is slang for hitman, or person who takes care of annoying problems, i.e. someone who fixes things.
> 
> Yup, Kylo got stuck in prison for assault. Don't worry, you'll find out what happened eventually. Three years may seem little, but from what I gathered when I did some research, it's a plausible sentence. Prison time for assault ranges from a year up to ten or fifteen, depending on the severity of it, circumstances, what state they're in etc etc. This was Kylo's first offence, so they were lenient - and probably a little scared of his family.
> 
> Tank and Hettie are two of my oldest OC's, and I just couldn't resist putting them in there. Hopefully you'll like them as much as I do.


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